


Tell Me Yer Name

by kylar



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hanzo Shimada, Canon Compliant, M/M, Post-Dragons (Overwatch), Post-Recall, Reunions, Secret Relationship, Strangers to Lovers, Switch Hanzo Shimada, Switch Jesse McCree, Yakuza Hanzo Shimada, Young Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, with both genji and jesse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 09:44:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13948935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylar/pseuds/kylar
Summary: Hanzo escapes the castle for a breath of fresh air following a particularly difficult day with the clan, and finds one in a mysterious, handsome American cowboy that instantly earns Hanzo's attention. Hanzo knows from subtle clues that his presence in Hanamura could mean trouble for his clan and himself, but that doesn't stop him from carrying on a secret affair with the charming cowboy. It's just a fling though, and he knows it will end eventually. He'll be able to put the cowboy behind him and continue on with his responsibilities and duties to the Shimada Clan. Little does he know, it won't be that easy, and the cowboy's short presence in his life will have a dramatic and devastating impact on everything that is to follow their little affair.





	Tell Me Yer Name

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first work ~~that I've been able to complete~~ in the Overwatch fandom! It's inspired entirely by [this incredible art](http://infinite-atmosphere.tumblr.com/post/149015738376/disjointed-comic-featuring-unfulfilled-past) by infinite-atmosphere. Go check out the art, give it a like and reblog, and enjoy the fic!
> 
> Also this was supposed to be short. Like, 10k max. But, as you can see, that didn't happen.....
> 
> Also also, contradictory to my usual MO, this is completely unedited, so please excuse any typos.

It wasn’t often that Hanzo was desperate to escape from the castle. Most of the time, he was able to effortlessly control his rising anxiety and push it down with years of ingrained discipline and training. After all, he couldn’t let the clan elders- or worse, his father- know that the pressure of being heir to the clan gave him anxiety and panic attacks. But every once in a while, his anxiety exceeds his extensive training, and he is forced to slip out of the castle where he can get a breath of fresh air, let his head clear, put some distance between him and his insurmountable duties to his clan. Where he can hide his weakness away from those who would seek to use it to destroy him.

The only one who knows about his little problem is his brother. Genji followed him one night, a few years ago, and found Hanzo in the throes of a particularly brutal panic attack. He hadn’t said a word. He had simply sat next to Hanzo, as close as Hanzo’s subtle body cues would allow, and waited it out with him. When Hanzo had finally come out of it, Genji had pulled him into a tight embrace and held him while Hanzo spilled all of his secrets to his younger brother, all of his fears and anxiety over being the heir to their clan. Ever since that night, Genji has assisted Hanzo whenever Hanzo needs to escape. He’ll distract Father while Hanzo sneaks out, or he’ll throw an arm over Hanzo’s shoulders and declare that they were going out drinking, or any number of sneaky excuses to get Hanzo out of the castle.

Tonight, Genji had ‘accidentally’ summoned his dragon in the _dojo_ and caused quite a devastating ruckus. With Father shouting Genji’s ear off and the elders milling over what to do with the troublesome second son, Hanzo had snuck off. Now he walks the quiet streets of Hanamura, his head ducked and hands shoved into the folds of his _gi_.

Today had been particularly bad. Hanzo had been forced to sit in on a meeting between his father and an allied clan. The Shimada Clan has been conducting drug trades with this clan for years, but recently they’ve promoted a new _kumicho_ and apparently he thinks he can pull a fast one on the Shimadas by substituting their usual order with a low grade substitute, while charging the same price they always have. The Shimada Clan’s dealers had discovered this the other day, and Hanzo had to sit through a meeting with a man Father ultimately ended up having killed. After, Hanzo had gotten an earful about how, when he takes over the clan, he needs to be wary even of their allies. That he can trust no one but himself, and that when betrayed, only the most severe penalties must be enacted. It had tipped Hanzo over the edge and all Genji needed was one shared look with his brother to unleash his dragon upon the _dojo._

Hanzo’s mind is still buzzing, not yet fully released from the grip of his anxiety, when he rounds the corner of a small ramen shop and collides pretty solidly with another person. His head snaps up as he regains his balance, his immediate response to rip into the idiot with snarls and bared teeth, but the words and anger wither and die on his tongue.

The man looks sheepish and apologetic, which definitely helps to douse Hanzo’s anger, but what really puts a stopper on his tirade is the man’s face. It’s partially hidden beneath the wide brim of an honest-to-gods cowboy hat, but what Hanzo can make out is a soft expression set into a hard face. He has a bit of scruff on his chin and cheeks that hasn’t filled out yet, betraying his young age. Despite that, his sharp features, thick neck, and broad chest tell of a fully grown man that has had physical training likely rival to Hanzo’s own. His eyes, although soft, hold an experience Hanzo is much too familiar with. Even in his young years, he’s seen and lived through things that most people would only ever witness in TV shows and movies. Despite all that though, his expression is still soft, his body language apologetic as a hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck. Hanzo catches sight of a crude tattoo on his inner forearm, visible from the way the sleeves of his plaid button-down are rolled up to the elbow. It draws Hanzo’s attention to the rest of the American’s getup. As if the cowboy hat and boots complete with jangling spurs weren’t enough, Hanzo’s eyes catch on the tacky belt buckle he has to be wearing ironically. Did he honestly, truly, roll out of bed this morning and decide this was appropriate attire to don? Does he dress like this every day?

Hanzo realizes too late that he’s been staring at the cowboy’s crotch for much too long when he coughs, drawing Hanzo attention back to his unfairly attractive face.

“Sorry ‘bout that, partner. Wasn’t watchin’ where I was goin’,” the cowboy drawls, and Hanzo is embarrassed- and also caught completely off guard- at the way his body reacts with a shiver to the deep tone.

The cowboy steps back slightly, as if not expecting Hanzo to understand his English in the slightest. Hanzo surprises himself yet again by immediately responding, for some reason desperate for the cowboy to know that he understands him. He resolutely decides to blame his strange behavior on his still receding panic.

“Do not apologize. I too was not paying attention,” Hanzo says.

“Oh shit, you speak English? Ain’t this a relief. Haven’t been able to talk to no one since I got here. Course it’s my own damn fault for not pickin’ up any Japanese before hoppin’ the ocean.”

It takes Hanzo a minute to fully comprehend what the cowboy is saying. “I do speak English. Do you?” The retort is out of Hanzo’s mouth before he can stop it, and he immediately regrets it. At the cowboy’s startled expression, he tries desperately to fish for an apology when the cowboy suddenly starts to laugh. It’s a full bodied, genuine laugh that, again, sends a flutter through Hanzo’s stomach. What is wrong with him?

“You got me there,” the cowboy finally says, still shaking a little with his laughter. “Suppose my accent ain’t the easiest to understand. Sorry ‘bout that, partner.” The cowboy tips his hat at Hanzo- Hanzo _really_ needs to learn to better control these fluttering reactions- and starts to back off. “Sorry again for nearly trippin’ you up. I’ll get outta yer hair.”

“Wait.”

Hanzo is done being surprised by his own impulsive reactions. No one from his clan is here to lecture him on them. No one here will try to aggressively correct that behavior. It’s the entire reason he ran from the castle in the first place. Out here he can do what he wants. Out here, he can _be_ what he wants. And what he is right now is attracted to this ridiculously dressed American.

“Have you eaten?” Hanzo asks, fighting to keep his expression neutral as the cowboy’s eyes widen in surprise.

“No, can’t say that I have,” the cowboy mutters.

Hanzo points over his shoulder to the ramen shop they’ve been hovering by. “This is not my favorite ramen shop, but it is rather good. Would you allow me to treat you to a bowl? As apology for my lack of attention earlier.”

“You ain’t got nothin’ to apologize for, partner,” the cowboy quickly tells him.

“As a friendly gesture of welcome, then,” Hanzo insists. “You did say you have not had the opportunity to converse with anyone since arriving. I would not mind acting as a conversational partner to you for the night.”

“Well, ain’t that mighty kind of ya,” the cowboy says, and a slow smile starts to spread across his face. “I’d be honored to take you up on that offer.”

Hanzo returns the cowboy’s smile and leads him to the front door of the small shop. There is only one other patron seated at the counter, and Hanzo and his companion take a seat on the opposite end. The cowboy hat comes off immediately, placed on the stool to the cowboy’s other side. He runs a hand quickly through his thick brown hair to hopefully dispel his hat hair, but to no avail. Hanzo quickly places an order for them after briefly explaining the menu, then they fall into a somewhat awkward silence.

“Aw shit, how rude o’ me,” the cowboy suddenly remarks. “I never introduced myself. McCree’s the name. Jesse McCree. And what can I call you?”

Hanzo’s breath catches in his throat as his heart seizes. His name. He can’t tell this cowboy his name. Even if this American knew nothing of Japan, the name Shimada is infamous even off the island. And Hanzo has observed enough that he’s fairly confident this cowboy has had some level of military training. If he’s served any military organization, then he surely knows the name Shimada. Even his given name isn’t safe to give. Not only for himself, but for the cowboy as well. He can’t have any connection to Hanzo Shimada, or it will paint a target on his back. Hanzo can’t give this cowboy his name, and his panic begins to claw back up into his chest.

He doesn’t realize he had shot up off his stool until the cowboy quickly reaches out to grab his wrist, just as the instinct to flee started to move his legs towards the door.

“Wait,” the cowboy pleads in a mirror of Hanzo’s own plea only minutes ago. “Sorry if I overstepped my bounds. Ya ain’t gotta tell me yer name if you don’t want to.”

Hanzo stares at the cowboy for a long moment as he attempts to calm his heart. All he sees is sincerity in those depths, and he convinces his body to lower itself back onto the stool. He breathes in, holds it, then out. Once, twice more, employing calming techniques taught to him by his mother when he was very young, until he’s able to relax in his seat and shoot the cowboy an apologetic glance. “I apologize for my rudeness, but I….”

“Hey now, don’t worry yer pretty little head over it,” the cowboy- McCree, McCree is his name- tells him with a soft, reassuring smile. “Believe it or not, I know a thing or two ‘bout havin’ to lay low and keep tight wraps on personal information. Ya ain’t gotta tell me yer name.”

Hanzo looks down at the countertop, unable to meet McCree’s understanding gaze. “Perhaps, when our meal has concluded, and I know you better, I may tell you my name.”

“Sounds fair,” McCree smiles. “I don’t mind workin’ for it.”

Their food arrives, set before them on the counter by the single cook working on the other side. Their first few bites are taken in silence as they wait for the awkwardness of the situation to fade. Eventually, Hanzo decides to dive back into a little light conversation. He didn’t invite the cowboy to eat with him just to sit in silence at his side. He had been intrigued and- he won’t lie to himself- a little attracted to him. And even if he has no intention of giving McCree his name, he does want to get to know him better.

“How long have you been in Japan?” Hanzo asks him.

“’Bout two weeks? Give or take,” McCree answers around a mouthful of noodles. He fumbles slightly with his chopsticks and Hanzo reaches out without thinking, adjusting his grip. After realizing what he’d done, Hanzo quickly ducks his head, eyes back on his own ramen. But he doesn’t miss the goofy grin McCree shoots at him. “Thanks, partner.”

Hanzo just nods at his bowl, hurrying to think of something else to ask. “Have you spent that time in Hanamura?”

“Yeah, for the most part. Spent the first two days in Tokyo, but Hanamura’s where I’m supposed to be.”

“’Supposed to be’? Are you not here for pleasure?”

“Nah. Here on business. The boss man sent me out here to get some work done.” He pauses, shooting another of those goofy, heart-stopping grins in Hanzo’s direction. “Don’t mean I can’t have some fun while I’m here.”

Hanzo can feel it, has felt it since the moment they quite literally ran into each other on the street. It’s some sort of… electricity that buzzes between them. Every time McCree smiles at him, every time the skin around his eyes crinkles, or his eyes soften, Hanzo feels it. It has him fidgeting in his seat. He’s never felt anything like this- this… connection- before. He knows it must have something to do with the attraction he feels towards the cowboy, but it’s a new feeling for him and he’s not quite sure how to handle it.

“What do you do for work?” Hanzo questions, pressing on and forcing the building electricity onto the back burner to be dealt with later. Other than McCree’s friendliness- that for all Hanzo knows could simply be typical friendliness apparent in all Westerners- Hanzo has gotten no hints or clues that the cowboy also feels this buzzing attraction.

“Well, that there’s hush hush confidential stuff. Maybe I’ll tell ya if I get yer name first. But can’t be givin' it away to nameless strangers,” he says with a teasing wink.

“Fair enough,” Hanzo returns. His heart races a little in anxiousness at McCree’s answer. He realizes then that it’s quite possible McCree’s military experience might not be entirely in the past. If his business is confidential or sensitive, he very well could be here on military business. In which case, it could also very well be that Hanzo’s own clan is what drew him here. But Hanzo knows, as long as McCree doesn’t know who he is, as long as he doesn’t have Hanzo’s name, Hanzo won’t be in any danger from this cowboy. Getting friendly with him might even earn him some favors if things go south. “Am I allowed to ask how long you will be staying here in Hanamura?”

“You can ask whatever you’d like, partner. I like hearin’ ya talk. Don’t mean I’ll answer though. But that question’s harmless enough. I’d say for another couple o’ months? Not super sure on the timeline though.”

Hanzo nods, unsure why that answer pleases him as much as it does. He takes some comfort in knowing McCree will be here a little while longer, despite the danger that might mean for his clan. At this point, with his recent panic attack over the clan so fresh in his memory, he finds he doesn’t quite care about the clan’s fate.

“Well, I would be honored to help you as much as I can while you are here. Unfortunately, a proficiency in English is not a very common skill here. Seeing as you know little to no Japanese, you may find that you need some assistance.”

“Well, that’s mighty kind of ya, partner. Who knew I’d end up bumpin’ into more than just a pretty face.”

That simple comment alone nearly has a heat rising into Hanzo’s cheeks, which embarrasses him greatly. He really needs to figure out what happened to his finely tuned self control and work out how to restore it before he ends up doing or saying something, or merely reacting in a way that he won’t be able to take back.

They share more idle conversation, and true to McCree’s promise, he shares a lot about himself in hopes of earning Hanzo’s name. Hanzo finds out that, although yes, he is from the United States, he’s actually of Mexican decent and speaks fluent Spanish. Hanzo leans that the cowboy actually is fluent in four languages, and can communicate in a handful more, much to Hanzo’s surprise. His own surprise though brings great disappointment in himself, realizing he had judged the cowboy by his looks and by Western stereotypes prevalent in his country. McCree admits that he had a very rough childhood and never finished high school, but Hanzo quickly realized that the cowboy is very smart regardless.

The cowboy talks a lot about his small family back home, about someone he calls ‘Papi’. It’s the only person he talks about, and Hanzo doesn’t ask as soon as he deduces that this Papi might be the only family McCree has. Family is a safe topic though, and Hanzo feels he can share a limited amount about his own. Of course, he mentions no names, nor does he mention occupations, but he does share about his brother. Because, despite how much Hanzo internally despises the family he was born into, he adores his brother. He doubts he’d still be here if not for Genji. So he lets himself brag a little about his troublesome younger brother, and McCree listens in rapt attention.

Eventually the conversation shifts to traveling, and when Hanzo admits that he’s never left Japan, that he’s hardly even left Hanamura, McCree is floored. He brings up Hanzo’s fluent English, and Hanzo tells him that it’s merely the result of extensive studying and a number of private, foreign tutors. McCree, still stunned, begins to ramble on about all of the countries he’s been to, and it turns out to be quite the list. Apparently this military job he won’t go into detail about has him traveling a lot, to all corners of the globe. Hanzo finds he’s envious. He would give anything to be able to travel like the cowboy has. He has so many stories to tell of all the little villages and towns and cities he’s seen. Of all the people he’s met and befriended. Of all the cultures he’s had the privilege of experiencing. And just as McCree did when Hanzo talked about Genji, Hanzo listens to these stories in rapt attention. He butts in with an occasional question when McCree catches onto his own ramblings and starts to fall quiet. Those little encouragements are all he seems to need though to carry on just as enthusiastically as he had started.

They spend hours in that ramen shop, talking about everything, yet nothing consequential. The cowboy, for as talkative as he is, doesn’t share anything that Hanzo could use against him. He never slips up about his work, and he never goes into much detail about where exactly he lives, or who exactly his Papi is. But Hanzo doesn’t mind. What he does tell Hanzo is all the little things, the small, harmless details that make McCree who he is. And it’s all those small inconsequential, yet oh so important things, that Hanzo really wanted to learn about the cowboy in the first place. They simply fuel the fire that had been burning low in his belly all night, ever since he ran into the cowboy just outside the restaurant. And if McCree’s searching looks, or the way he leans into Hanzo’s space ever so slightly, or the way his smiles grow even softer- if even possible- Hanzo can’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this buzzing interest is mutual.

The two only vacate their seats when the cook starts to shut down and clean up his equipment, signaling that the restaurant is about to close. McCree pulls out a beat up wallet to pay, but Hanzo beats him to it, producing a folded bill to hand to the cook. It’s well over what is owed, but Hanzo doesn’t wait for any change. The cook knows him and knows exactly who he is- this restaurant falls right in the middle of Shimada territory, after all- and he knows without words that the extra amount is paying for his silence in front of Hanzo’s strange company. And to his family and the elders if anyone were to ask. Not that anyone will. Aside from the one old man that had sat in the corner when they first entered, no one saw them here together.

The cowboy follows him out of the restaurant, ducking under the _noren_ , and out into the cold of the night. Having fled from the castle still wearing his training _gi_ and nothing thicker to wear over it, Hanzo has to fight a shiver. McCree seems unaffected by the cold, his sleeves remaining rolled up to his elbows, past his tattoo- which Hanzo had learned earlier tonight was done by a friend on a dare when he was a teenager. The hat immediately returns to its proper place on the cowboy’s head.

“Well-” the cowboy starts to say as they walk slowly down the empty, narrow street. Hanzo is quick to cut off the goodbye he knows is about to be spoken.

“Where are you staying?”

“Oh, uh, a few blocks down that way,” he says, pointing in the direction they are walking, away from the castle.

“I will walk with you,” Hanzo informs him, not giving the cowboy a choice. He doesn’t seem to mind though, as he smiles and sidles up closer to Hanzo’s side.

Nearly the entire walk is made in silence, but it’s comfortable. They’ve already said so much, they’ve already learned more than probably either expected. There’s not much more to say, only the growing electricity that seems to pull them even closer together. Their arms brush with every couple of steps, and it’s a warmth that Hanzo savors. He leans into the warmth the cowboy seems to radiate, and he tries to tell himself that it’s simply because he’s cold, and not because he’s so touch starved, so desperate for friendly contact from a source other than his brother. McCree doesn’t seem to mind though, if anything leaning in the same way Hanzo is.

When they reach the small, nondescript hotel McCree is staying at, pausing around the corner, out of sight of any windows or passersby, Hanzo’s heart is racing and he’s not quite sure why or what to make of it. The cowboy turns to face him, pulling his hat from his head to hold against his chest. At his questioning, searching look, Hanzo’s heart threatens to stop. He suddenly, with great clarity, knows what it is McCree is searching for, and he wants it, like he’s never wanted anything in his life.

It’s almost strange, allowing himself this bit of happiness, this bit of pleasure. His whole life, he’s given everything he is, given up every want and desire, for the good of the clan. He’s been raised, trained, and groomed since birth to be a fearless _yakuza_ leader that doesn’t let desires of folly distract or inconvenience him. And yet here he is, going against everything that has ever been drilled into his brain, waiting for this American cowboy he’s known for the entirety of one night to kiss him. His mind wars with itself, trying to fight the pull of temptation. But right now, in this moment, his will is weak.

McCree doesn’t kiss him, not yet, but he seems to find the answer he’s looking for. He reaches up with one long-fingered hand, brushing the hang of Hanzo’s thick black hair behind his ear. The heat of his fingertips skimming ever so lightly across his cheek burns like a fire under his skin, and his eyes refuse to break contact with McCree’s.

“You really are the most beautiful thing I ever did see,” the cowboy breathes, barely a whisper in the still night air. “Ya said you’d help me out with my stay here. How can I contact ya?”

Hanzo hesitates. The reality of the situation- of _his_ situation- nearly crashing down around him, nearly causing his panic to flare back up. This cowboy doesn’t even know his name, nor will he ever. He can’t. Hanzo starts to turn away, turning a shoulder, but is stopped when the cowboy leans in.

“Tell me yer name,” he murmurs, and there’s a hint of a plea in his tone.

Hanzo steels himself, solidifies his resolve, his duty, his honor to his clan. “I won’t.” He pauses, his body still turned slightly away from McCree. “And as for your question: I will be around.”

“Well, then I guess I’ll just have to keep workin’ for that name,” the cowboy says with a smile, seemingly undeterred- to Hanzo’s great relief- buy his refusal. “In the meantime, what can I call ya?”

“Call me as you wish,” Hanzo tells him.

“Very well, darlin’.”

And with that, he finally- _finally_ \- closes the distance between them and grants Hanzo the kiss he had so desperately been waiting for.

…

Hanzo can’t concentrate. The following two days are spent with his mind turned internally. Now that there has been some distance between himself and the cowboy, the more logical side of his mind has woken up. The blinding haze created by McCree’s proximity has lifted, allowing him to actually, _rationally_ , consider the events of that night.

Hanzo was stupid to allow himself to become so enraptured by the cowboy. Now that he can look back on it with a clear head, he can see with a clear severity how horribly he slipped his training. The day following that fateful night, he had thrown himself head- and mind- first into reconditioning training, earning a few curious looks and comments from the clan elders and Father. Whatever weakness the cowboy had found and dragged to the forefront of Hanzo’s mind must be erased. He cannot let himself give into folly and selfish pleasures the way he did. Not if he is to inherit this family and run it appropriately, with the iron fist Father speaks so determinedly about.

But it is not so simple. Something that is not the logical part of his brain- perhaps not even located in his brain at all- longs for the closeness he and the cowboy shared that fateful night. His company, his smile, his warmth, were all so welcoming and Hanzo knows with startling clarity that he _needs_ them. He cannot simply brush them and the cowboy that gives them aside so readily like his logical brain has decided needs to be done. Not to mention that kiss…. Hanzo has been kissed before, but this kiss was different. It was something that he had desperately wanted, and not something women and men in desperate want of his power had forced upon him. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget how it felt, the soft press of McCree’s chapped lips against his own, moving slowly and cautiously, as if testing the waters and waiting for a possible rejection. Of course none had come, Hanzo having shamelessly leant up into the kiss, searching for more, which McCree had willingly- perhaps even eagerly- given. And of course, that warmth. The kiss had been so warm, so inviting, that something deep in Hanzo had grievingly lamented it’s loss when the cowboy had pulled back. Hanzo knows it is ridiculous for him to have fallen so hard and fast for what ultimately amounts to a complete stranger- never mind the dangers said stranger presents for his clan. But he can’t deny what he feels, and that deep something inside of him- something Hanzo knows to be his heart- refuses to let the logical side of his brain force McCree out.

Hanzo has never wanted for anything in his entire life. He’s only ever taken what this clan has allowed him to take. Never once has he longed for something personal and selfish. So why can’t he be allowed this one thing?

A full day of intense- bordering on dangerous- mental reconditioning was followed by physical training to try and keep his warring mind occupied and away from thoughts of the cowboy. It proves ineffective though, as Genji tosses him into the mats for the fourth time in as many minutes. Apparently the cowboy is a distraction even without proximity.

“What troubles you, brother?” Genji asks as he reaches a hand down to help Hanzo to his feet.

Hanzo frowns as he brushes off his _gi._ He’s about to open his mouth, to confide in his brother, but a castle servant enters the room, dropping off a few small towels for the brothers before ducking out of the room again. Hanzo snaps his mouth shut. He can’t talk about his cowboy- when had he become _his_?- where others can hear him. He shouldn’t even talk to Genji about him, but he needs someone to confide in, and if he can trust anybody in this godforsaken castle, he can trust Genji.

His brother notices his hesitance and recognizes its source. He reaches out for his brother’s hand and pulls Hanzo from the _dojo_ and out into the castle gardens. Weaving along the stone paths, he puts a great amount of space between the two of them and the rest of the castle. It’s not until they’re seated on a singular stone bench against the wall of the castle, far from the listening ears of the rest of the castle’s inhabitance, that Hanzo speaks.

“I met someone last night,” Hanzo starts slowly, hesitantly, not really sure how to tell this story. He knows he doesn’t want to tell Genji everything, that some of the events of that night are best left between himself and the cowboy, so he has to carefully pick through what he d _oes_ want to tell him. “Well, I ran into him more like.”

“So? You tore their head off? You sent them running in tears? People have insulted you before and you haven’t gotten this worked up about it,” Genji points out.

“No, I… I didn’t yell at him. I was going to, but…” Hanzo is really not sure how to tell this story. He himself is still trying to work out how the events of that night progressed the way they did. Because the conclusion his brother had jumped to absolutely should’ve been the conclusion that unfurled. In every other situation where someone has gotten in his way, or been any kind of inconvenience to him, he’d done as his father had trained him: he asserted his dominance as the heir to a powerful _yakuza_ family and put them in their place. There is no reason why his run in with McCree should’ve ended any differently, except for the cowboy’s charming face and calming smile. “He was kind, and apologetic. He was also an American, who may or may not have been lost or wandering.”

“An American, huh?” Genji questions. “So? Why does this American have you all up in your own head?”

“I’m not sure why, but I offered to take him to dinner to apologize for running into him.”

This catches Genji’s attention. “ _You,_ Hanzo Shimada, _apologized_ for bumping into someone on the street, then offered to buy them _dinner_?” His brother gapes at him for another minute before shooting him a suspicious stare. “Who are you and what have you done with my _anija_.”

Hanzo rolls his eyes and punches his younger brother in the shoulder. “Be serious, brother.”

“I am being serious! This is unprecedented. My brother, actually being _kind_ to _strangers_ for once. So what happened after that? Did he accept? Did you actually take him out to dinner?”

“I did. And it was… nice. I haven’t talked- I mean actually _talked_ \- with anyone outside the family for, well, longer than I can rightfully say.”

Genji frowns, growing entirely serious. “By ‘talk’, you don’t mean….”

“Of course, not about the family. I didn’t even tell him my name,” Hanzo tells him, a fact that sends a pang of regret lancing through his stomach. He wants, more than anything, more than another stolen kiss, to give McCree his name. He wants to hear it uttered adoringly in that low timbre, breathed against his lips, against the skin of his neck, into his ear. He wants McCree to _know_ him. Not as ‘partner’, not as ‘darling’- as nice as that may be-, but as ‘Hanzo’.

“What did you talk about then?” Genji asks in confusion, and Hanzo can understand. The clan is Hanzo’s entire life, is everything he’s ever known, it’s who he _is_. If he doesn’t talk about the clan, then what does he talk about?

“Inconsequential things. Everything and yet… nothing at all. I told him about you, but mostly he did the talking. He told me about his family, about all the traveling is done, about the ugly tattoo on his arm. He told me about some of his friends from when he was younger, the area he grew up in. He told me about the first time he broke a bone, and the tenth. He told me about a dog he found and kept for three days before it ran away. He told me how he got his cowboy hat that he’s had since he was a teenager.”

“Cowboy hat?”

Hanzo actually smiles at that. “You would’ve laughed if you could’ve seen him, Genji. He is an honest-to-gods cowboy. Cowboy hat, cowboy boots with spurs, faded jeans, and the tackiest belt buckle you’ve ever seen.”

Genji does laugh at that. “I want to meet this cowboy that softened your ire!”

Hanzo’s smile instantly disappears, his shoulders tensing. Genji catches the shift quickly, and relaxes back against the stone wall with a subdued smile.

“Ah, it’s okay. I don’t have to meet him,” Genji backpedals carefully.  “You are allowed to have something to yourself.”

Hanzo relaxes too. He knows it’s selfish of him to want to keep McCree to himself, to have this one thing that’s just for him and no one else. He knows it’s greedy, but he can’t bring himself to release his death grip on this one thing, on McCree. He won’t share him. Not with his brother, not with anyone. And besides, the less Hanzo drags him into his hellhole of a life, the safer his cowboy will be.

“Thank you,” he murmurs to his clenched hands in his lap, barely loud enough to be heard.

But Genji hears him and reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “I know you, so I know what is going through your head, the reason you’re so distracted. You are allowed to have a friend, Hanzo. The clan may control every aspect of your life, but that is unhealthy, manipulative, and cruel. I know you disagree with me, I know you are probably freaking out, thinking it is a betrayal to your clan by fostering this friendship, but _you are allowed to have this one thing._ ”

Hanzo doesn’t argue with him, doesn’t point out that it _is_ a betrayal. He and Genji’s views on the clan have always been different, and have only grown even further apart as they’ve gotten older. Nothing he’s said up until this point, and nothing he says now, will change how Genji feels, so he doesn’t bother. He also doesn’t correct Genji on his word choice. It’s not a simple friendship he seeks to foster with McCree. It is so much more than that, but he can hardly admit that to himself, let alone his brother.

…

Hanzo’s logical brain looses its gallant efforts to steer Hanzo back on the track of his training and his duties to the clan. It takes three days for the fight to be lost, but lost it is, and Hanzo sneaks out of the castle again, after three nights, to go find his cowboy. His heart is racing in his chest as he climbs the walls and drops down on the other side. This escape is completed without Genji’s assistance, without even his knowledge. Genji, somehow, hadn’t caught onto Hanzo’s true feelings for McCree when they had talked yesterday, and Hanzo is determined to keep it that way. So telling his brother that he’s sneaking out tonight, not due to a panic attack, but in order to meet with his cowboy again, would be counterproductive.

His heart continues to hammer against his ribcage, as if driving him forward towards McCree, as he walks through the streets. He’s dressed into more practical clothes this time, rather than parading around Hanamura in his _gi_ , but it’s closing in on winter and the nights are getting chilly. Even in his dark sweater, he still shivers slightly against the night air. Although, he thinks, perhaps it’s not entire due to the cold, but also in part to the growing anticipation blooming in his chest.

He’s not walking long before he reaches the ramen shop outside of which he had run into McCree. It’s just far enough from the castle that he feels safe enough to conduct personal business, but close enough that he feels keeping an eye out for any overly curious attention is a necessary precaution. Perhaps he should find a new, more distant place to rendezvous with his secret interest.

His slight paranoia coupled with his growing eagerness and anticipation produces a weird feeling in his chest and mind. But he presses forward, more desperate than anything else. Of course, he can’t appear so, though, and keeps his head held high and his steps confident. This was part of his training too, learning how to hold and carry himself so that he radiates nothing but sheer power and intimidation. Although, perhaps that’s not the best persona to don while meeting with his cowboy. He slows his steps a little, curling in on himself just enough to erase any dangerous or aggressive vibes.

He finds his cowboy waiting for him, sitting on an upturned milk crate with his head ducked, hat obscuring the view of his face. A thin wisp of smoke curls up into the night air from the remains of fat cigarillo hanging from the corner of his lips. Held in one hand is a small chunk of wood, and in the other a pocket knife, flipped open and being repeatedly, yet carefully dragged across the grain of the wood. Hanzo is startled to clearly make out the forming head of a dragon on the end of the wood- one that closely resembles his own tattoo that must’ve been partially exposed by the not quite long enough sleeves of his _gi_ \- before it’s quickly shoved into a pocket when the cowboy notices his presence.

“Hey!” his cowboy says in surprise, quickly getting to his feet and taking an eager step forward before realizing himself and falling back onto his heals. His spurs jangle with his sudden, hard stop. He pulls the cigarillo from his lips, snuffing it out on the bottom of his boot before tucking it into a pocket. “I… was startin’ to think ya weren’t gonna come back.”

“I apologize. I had… some issues that needed to be addressed at home,” Hanzo says, giving a quick and vague excuse.

McCree doesn’t press, instead a smile- and gods did Hanzo miss that smile- spreading slowly across his face. “Well, I’m glad yer back. I missed ya.”

Hanzo is done. Any hope he had of forcing back any and all feelings he may or may not feel for the cowboy vanishes in a puff of mocking self-realization. He should’ve known from the beginning it would be entirely impossible for the logical side of his brain to win this war. His emotional side has been neglected and starved and beaten back into the darkest recesses of his mind for as long as he’s been alive, and it’s starving, needy, and refuses to be ignored any further. It latches onto that smile, those soft words, and Hanzo’s _need_ , with a death grip Hanzo has no desire to try and break. With those three words, Hanzo gives in, wholly and completely, to his selfish desires.

“And I you,” Hanzo returns, making a valiant effort to calm his erratic heart. It is incredible what McCree’s soft words can do to him after a lifetime of coldness.

They stand there in a somewhat awkward, yet strangely still comfortable silence for a long minute. Hanzo mentally berates himself for not thinking this far ahead. Usually he’s so well prepared for any and all situations that may arise in any given course of action. But he had been so distracted by his desire to simply see his cowboy again, that he hadn’t stopped to think about what he’d do when that was accomplished. And now his muddled brain is left to flounder for an appropriate suggestion.

“Well, uh, I don’t know ‘bout you, but I haven’t eaten yet. And maybe this time, I can be the one to take ya out?” McCree tells him.

Hanzo relaxes again and allows himself to smile up at the cowboy. “It would be my honor, McCree.”

“Please, just call me Jesse,” he insists, and Hanzo exasperatedly notes that he should _not_ be having these kind of fluttering reactions to such small things. He is no blushing schoolgirl. He is the heir to an infamous _yakuza_ clan, with a training that makes him dangerous and deadly in hundreds of different ways, who has watched unaffected as brutal and lethal punishment was taken out on those who wronged him or his family. He is above being sent into a heart fluttering mess at being asked to address his cowboy by his given name.

“Of course, Jesse.” It rolls off his tongue like it belongs there and nowhere else, like it’s the most comfortable thing Hanzo will ever utter. Again, that pang of regret at not being able to share his own name stings in his gut, but he can’t. It’s not just to keep his identity secret, but to keep McCree- to keep _Jesse_ safe. Above all, it’s to keep Jesse safe.

“Oh, but, uh… perhaps you can choose the restaurant? I’m still learnin’ my way ‘round these parts,” Jesse suggests.

Hanzo thinks for a moment- what restaurants within walking distance aren’t heavily tied to his clan? They were lucky that the ramen shop they visited falls under that category- it was one reason why Hanzo felt comfortable enough to take Jesse there- but unfortunately the same can’t be said for most of the establishments around here. They may have to walk a little ways, but Hanzo sure as hell doesn’t mind. It just means more time spent at his cowboy’s side. Hopefully Jesse will see it the same way.

“Is there anything you do not particularly like? Or perhaps hold allergies to?” Hanzo asks as he starts to lead Jesse down the street, in the opposite direction of the castle.

“Nope and nope,” the cowboy says with a smile. “I ain’t picky. I’m even willin’ to try that raw fish that I heard was popular here.”

That pulls a short laugh from Hanzo. “You mean sushi? You have never had sushi before?”

“Can’t say I have,” Jesse tells him.

“I will have to correct this grievous error then, now won’t I?”

It’s the cowboy’s turn to bark a laugh, and Hanzo fights to keep his breathing even when Jesse reaches between them to catch Hanzo’s hand in his. His hand is just as warm as Hanzo remembers it being when he lightly brushed Hanzo’s cheek that first night. The skin of his fingers is rough, surely from years of working with them, but his grip is gentle. The cowboy’s thick fingers weave between Hanzo’s own, and Hanzo’s heart threatens to punch right out of his chest. Jesse gives his hand a gentle squeeze, accompanied by an equally gentle smile, and Hanzo returns both.

“I’m thinkin’ ya will,” Jesse drawls, slowly, smoothly.

“But not tonight. You have expressed your desire to treat me to dinner tonight, and quality sushi can be quite pricey,” Hanzo tells him, an inarguable authority to his tone. “I will have to wait until next time to broaden your horizons, my American cowboy.”

Jesse doesn’t miss the possessive, and a charming smirk pulls at his lips. “Money ain’t an issue. Especially when spent on you, darlin’. But I am rather fond of the idea of a ‘next time’.”

“As am I.”

Hanzo leads him all the way out to the edge of the city, still well within the Shimada territory, but far enough from the castle that the clan’s influence is lower, and also that the people out here are less likely to recognize Hanzo’s face. The restaurant he takes Jesse to is a traditional Japanese food restaurant. It continuously brings small servings of several very traditional foods to the table. Perhaps it’s not the best place to have private, uninterrupted conversation , but Hanzo wants his cowboy to try the food he grew up eating. He wants to explain every dish, wants to watch Jesse’s reactions to all the new tastes. More than anything, he wants to share his culture with the cowboy. He wants to show Jesse new things and experiences, so that hopefully, when all of this is over and Jesse has to return to his home, he’ll have even more to remember Hanzo by.

The though sends a sharp pain shooting through his heart, and he has to employ every scrap of self-control training he knows to keep it from showing on his face. He doesn’t want to think about the time when Jesse will have to leave. That’s not for a couple more months, longer if they are lucky. Right now, Hanzo needs to live in this moment, the moment that has Jesse sitting here with him, across the small table and looking appreciatively around at the very Japanese décor.

Just as their first meal together, this one is far from silent. They talk about everything and yet nothing at all between bites of food. Just as Hanzo had hoped, Jesse asks about everything that’s placed in front of them, and eagerly tries all of it while Hanzo explains it to him. He doesn’t seem to come across anything he doesn’t like, which pleases Hanzo greatly.

“So,” Jesse starts after swallowing a mouthful of _agedashi tofu_ , “d’you know what the deal is with that huge as shit castle?”

Hanzo’s entire body freezes as ice rushes through his veins. His mind scrambles to find answers to any possible questions Jesse may ask about his family’s castle, answers that are vague enough not to give anything away, yet detailed enough to answer his questions and keep him from either pressing further or growing suspicious.

Thankfully, Jesse doesn’t seem to notice his reaction as he continues. “I was hopin’ I could go in and take a look, but seems it’s closed to the public. I’ve also seen a couple o’ guards walkin’ ‘round the gates.”

“Unlike most castles in Japan, it is privately owned,” Hanzo tells him, and it’s quite a struggle to keep his voice as even as he does. “The family that owns it has very, _very_ long bloodlines. The castle has belonged to them for over one thousand years. They are very traditional, and highly private, and that is why it remains closed to the public. Though many think they could make quite a lot of money if they were to open it to the public for occasional tours. It is the only castle in the country that is currently inhabited, and many are curious to see how an inhabited castle functions.” Hanzo fights a coy smile at the thought. Those desires have been floating around Hanamura ever since Hanamura Castle became the last inhabited castle. It would seem there are no shortage of people that would like a look at the inner workings of a still functioning castle. If only they knew the atrocities that took place within those walls on a daily basis. Then nobody would desire to step foot inside. “This is all I am aware of though. As I said, the family is incredibly private, and few know who they are.”

“Huh, guess I’ll have to find another castle to check out,” Jesse says, leaving it at that, to Hanzo’s great relief.

“Unfortunately, there are very few castles in this area. The only original castle- other than Hanamura Castle, of course- is Matsumoto Castle, but that is hours from here. A little closer, but still quite a distance- and merely a reconstruction- is Odawara Castle. Another reason people wish for Hanamura Castle’s gates to be opened to the public.”

“Huh. A shame,” Jesse says as he returns his attention to his meal. Hanzo lets himself relax, a bullet dodged, as Jesse continues on a new line of conversation.

The close call doesn’t quite leave his mind through. For the duration of their meal, Hanzo’s mind is stuck running circles around itself, distracted by thoughts of how that conversation may have transpired if Jesse had been even slightly more curious about his family’s castle. It only further reminds Hanzo that courting this relationship of theirs- whatever it may be- is dangerous and can only end in tragedy. Whether it be Jesse discovering who he truly is and running from him in disgust, or Jesse’s military organization coming down on them and Jesse leading Hanzo away in handcuffs, or simply Jesse’s stay coming to an end and him leaving Hanzo alone here, stuck in a cage he cannot escape from.

He knew though, from the very beginning, that this wouldn’t last. He knew before he ever even ran into the cowboy that night near the ramen shop. He knew from the moment he was old enough to understand, that he’d never be allowed his own happiness. He knew that he’d be groomed to dedicate all he is, all he ever will be, to the family and the clan. He knew that any outside happiness or pleasure he ever found would be brief and fleeting. Including this. Including Jesse. He knew before he even met Jesse that he’d have to let him go eventually, despite how much the mere thought pains him. Because Genji was wrong. He himself was wrong. He is _not_ allowed to have even this one thing.

They finish their meal in friendly conversation, despite Hanzo’s inner pain of realization. Jesse doesn’t seem to notice- or perhaps he does, and the way his hearty laughter and radiant smile warm Hanzo’s very core and pull him out of his self-depreciation is entirely intentional. Either way, Hanzo is grateful, and when they leave the restaurant, Hanzo finds the last thing he wants is to part ways with the charming cowboy.

“Was dinner enjoyable?” Hanzo asks, desperately searching for a way to extend the night, to not let it draw to a close here.

“It was. Thanks for the suggestion,” Jesse says with a smile. “So, what’s next, partner?”

And it would seem Jesse is just as eager to let their night carry on, so with a smile, Hanzo suggests a walk through a park that is not far from the restaurant. It’s a small park, not particularly well known or visited, which for them is perfect. It is also quite late, which means that when they arrive at the winding gravel path cutting through a grassy garden that wraps around a lake nearly entirely covered in lily pads, they are alone. They walk hand in hand through the park, choosing their paths at forks seemingly at random. They continue to talk, voices light and quiet in the silence of the night.

The park isn’t big, and when they reach the opposite end, Hanzo leads his cowboy to a stone bench situated at the end of the lake. They sit side by side, hands still intertwined. Jesse’s thumb plays over the back of Hanzo’s hand, soft caresses that keep drawing Hanzo’s attention despite the absent-minded nature of the action. They sit in companionable silence for a long moment, neither saying a word- aside from Jesse asking if Hanzo minded if he smoked. To which Hanzo says he doesn’t. Jesse pulls out his cigarillo and a lighter and after a few puffs, sits back to reclaim Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo reaches out to pluck the cigarillo from Jesse’s teeth and take a drag.

“There is a festival in two days,” Hanzo starts to say, handing the cigarillo back to Jesse.

“A festival?” the cowboy asks after pulling in a deep drag.

“Yes. They are common Japanese celebrations.”

“What’re they celebratin’?”

“They celebrate a variety of things. This one is held on the same weekend every year, and celebrates a popular god in this area. The festival will be at his shrine, which is near to this park. This festival has been held every year for over four hundred years. It is not a large festival, and usually I avoid it, but I would like to invite you to accompany me, if you so choose.” Hanzo neglects to mention that there will also be a festival in about a week’s time at the shrine just a few blocks down from the castle. His first instinct had been to invite Jesse to that one, but that is the Shimada clan’s favorite shrine, and most of the clan will surely be in attendance. It would be much too dangerous for Hanzo to accompany Jesse there. Hanzo just hopes his cowboy will not hear about it and ask Hanzo to attend with him. He’s not sure he can come up with an explanation as to why it would be a bad idea.

“Darlin’, you could invite me to watch paint dry, or to watch the grass grow, and I’d happily tag along,” Jesse says with a sincere smile.

Hanzo returns the smile despite not truly understanding his strange examples- he can’t help it really, not when Jesse’s radiance is so contagious- and takes the cowboy’s cigarillo back to take another drag. “Very well, then our next date is set. Meet me in our usual place at six, in two days time.”

“I thought our next date was gonna be expensive raw fish,” Jesse points out, taking his cigarillo back.

“Well, we’ll just have to put that off a little longer, now won’t we?”

Jesse seems pleased with Hanzo’s response, if his toothy grin is anything to go by. They share the cigarillo, their idle chatter picking back up. Despite Hanzo’s earlier revelations, he lets himself live in this moment. Maybe he can’t keep this happiness, this personal selfishness, but he can appreciate it now while he has it. So when they finish the cigarillo, and Jesse leans in, Hanzo pushes all other thought from his mind and meets the cowboy- his cowboy- halfway.

…

It’s late when they leave the park, and well after midnight by the time they reach Jesse’s hotel. Again, they pause around the corner to say their goodbyes, which Hanzo may or may not be intentionally dragging out. It would seem that Jesse is just as eager to drag them out though, seeing as every time Hanzo starts to pull away, Jesse chases him to recapture his lips in another kiss. Hanzo hardly fights him on it. He leans into each kiss, memorizing the way Jesse’s lips feel against his own, committing to memory the way his lips move against his, each little sound of pleasure the cowboy makes. Hanzo savors every tiny little aspect of it. The way Jesse doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, resting them on Hanzo’s hips, sliding them to the small of his back, lifting one to caress his cheek, then lowering it again, only to raise it back up a moment later. It’s as if Jesse wants to touch all of him, but doesn’t know where to start or what path to move along or where to linger. It only adds to his charm, and Hanzo finds himself pressing into his cowboy’s strong chest.

When they finally do pull away with whispered goodbyes, he can sense the question on Jesse’s lips. He knows he wants to ask. He expects it. So when he says nothing, Hanzo nearly grows disappointed. He turns from Jesse to head back to the castle, but a strong arm suddenly reaches out to snake across Hanzo’s waist, the large palm settling low against his stomach. That strong chest pressed into his back, more on the right side than the left, and a hot breath ghosts across Hanzo’s neck and ear. Hanzo fights a shiver, knowing full well that Jesse would be able to feel it with how much contact they’re sharing right now. Warm and oh so familiar lips brush teasingly, hardly there, up Hanzo’s neck to hesitate by his ear.

“Tell me yer name.”

Finally, the request Hanzo had been expecting. It’s breathed into the shell of his ear, and this time Hanzo can’t suppress the shiver that rolls through his body from the top of his neck to the base of his spine. He turns into Jesse slightly, looking up over his shoulder at the cowboy. Their lips hesitate, mere inches apart. Their noses brush. It would be so easy for Hanzo to open his mouth and simply say it. Just one word, a simple breath against those warm lips. He wants to hear Jesse repeat it back in a whisper. He wants to hear it spoken by that deep, husky voice. He wants Jesse to say it with the longing he knows the cowboy feels. The same longing that burns in Hanzo’s own gut. But-

“I shouldn’t.”

…

Hanzo usually avoids festivals- any large gathering of people, really- and he usually detests dressing himself up for any occasion. Despite this though, he finds himself eagerly digging through his closet for something nice to wear to the festival he is excited to attend. His hands drag over the soft fabric of a few nice _yukata_ he could wear, but he hesitates when his eyes catch on a shimmering fall of dark blue fabric interwoven with streaks of gold. He hasn’t worn a _kimono_ in years. They’re heavy, hard to move in, and much too fancy for Hanzo’s taste. This doesn’t stop his hands from reaching for the hanger, pulling the heavy fabric from the back of the closet. His eyes look over the intricate, beautiful design as his mind desperately tries to justify making the effort to put this on by himself- a justification that is _not_ because he wants to look good for Jesse. After all, this _kimono is_ the most expensive and beautiful item in his closet, so it is a shame it does not get more use. It’s also getting a bit cold to be wearing a simple _yukata_. The extra layers of the _kimono_ would help keep him much warmer. Yes, he will go with that excuse. He is in no way trying to impress his cowboy. That would be absurd.

What he does not account for though, in choosing to don his restrictive _kimono_ , is how he is going to escape from the castle. He can’t exactly climb the castle walls like this. So instead, unfortunately, he has to employ Genji to distract the guard. When he finds his brother lounging in his room halfway through a level of a game on his Play Station, Genji actually does a double take.

“Ooh,” he coos. “Going out for a night on the town with your-”

Hanzo drops heavily to his knees in front of his younger brother and slaps a hand over his mouth. “Not here,” he snaps under his breath. “… but yes.”

“And let me guess,” his brother grins. “You need my help getting out of the castle since you cannot ninja your way over the walls while wearing a _kimono._ ”

“You very well know I could probably manage,” Hanzo huffs. “But this is an expensive _kimono_ , and I would rather not take the chance I may damage it in the process.”

“It’s alright, brother, I got you.” Genji hops to his feet, making his way to the door. “One distraction, coming right up. Oh, and what time should the second distraction occur so that you can sneak back in? Keep in mind, your answer does not have to be tonight.” He includes a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows at Hanzo, and Hanzo has to desperately fight to keep a heat from burning in his cheeks.

“It will _definitely_ be tonight,” Hanzo retorts, making a gallant effort to keep his imagination from running wild with Genji’s suggestion. No, he cannot spend the night with his cowboy. The hours he already spends with him are dangerous enough. If Father were to ask upon him and discover he was gone, Hanzo doesn’t know what excuse he could possibly give. Especially not if he gets caught sneaking back into the castle in the early hours of the morning. Hanzo has played witness to enough lectures and threats directed at Genji when he had done much the same. “But it may be late tonight. Let’s say midnight for simplicity’s sake.”

Genji just stares at him a long moment, as if disappointed in Hanzo’s decision. But Hanzo is not Genji. He will not get as many free passes as Genji has gotten in regards to being careless and damaging the reputation of this clan. He won’t get even one chance. The first time he makes a mistake- strike that, the first time he gets _caught_ making this mistake he’s already making, it will be the end of him in Father’s eyes. The sliver of freedom he has now will be stripped from him. Hanzo cannot take that chance. He will not survive those consequences. “Very well, if you insist. But text me if you’re going to be later than that.”

Hanzo waits a few minutes after Genji disappears, giving his brother some time to fabricate his distraction. He shuffles through the halls towards the front gates, and only when he hears the snapping of tree branches and the rushed steps of the guards along the walls away from the front gate, does Hanzo slip out of his hiding place. A quick scan reveals a few broken branches of one of the blooming cherry trees growing against the wall, and all the guards in the immediate area hurrying to check for a possible intruder. Hanzo hurries across the slightly raised wooden walkways, _geta_ held in one hand to avoid making too much noise, and slips through the gate unseen.

He sneaks through a few narrow streets in his socks before deeming it safe enough to slip his feet into his _geta_. It’s at this point that he lets himself relax- as much as he is able, which is not nearly as much as he appears to have- and strides with confidence and purpose through the streets. No one stops him. Everyone in this area knows exactly who he is and keeps well out of his way. Especially dressed as he is- someone of his status only dresses up like this when they expect to be in important company or conducting important business- no one dares get in his way.

Which is how he makes it all the way to his meeting spot with Jesse entirely unaccosted. He finds his cowboy leaning back against the back wall of the ramen shop, his cowboy hat ducked as he again works his pocket knife over the chunk of wood in his hands. He has his usual cigarillo tucked between his lips, and nearly drops it when Hanzo clears his throat. The cowboy jumps to his feet, and- there it is. That exact look is why Hanzo went through so much trouble to dress up as he has. Jesse’s eyes widen, unashamedly dragging them up and down Hanzo’s figure. He opens his mouth to speak, but stutters over his words and coughs.

“Well shit, darlin’, if ya ain’t the prettiest thing I ever did see” he murmurs, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “I feel a mite underdressed.”

“Do not worry,” Hanzo tells him as he walks past the cowboy. Jesse quickly scrambles to follow at Hanzo’s side. “No one will be looking at you.”

Jesse chuckles, but it’s a little strained, and Hanzo can feel the cowboy’s eyes still dragging over him. It makes him puff out his chest a little more, hold his chin a little higher and carry himself with as much elegance and grace he can muster. “Damn right ‘bout that, sweetheart. I sure as all hell wouldn’t be.”

Hanzo offers a small smirk, and takes the opportunity to look over his cowboy. He’s dressed as he usually is- declining to leave behind his flashy belt buckle, hat, or boots still bearing a pair of spurs- but the jeans he chose are darker and not so worn, and his shirt is a solid black rather than plaid, neatly pressed. The top most button is undone, however, revealing a peek of dark, curly chest hair. Hanzo can feel his mouth go dry, fighting off the sudden desire to pull the shirt apart to reveal what must be a liberally covered, well toned chest. Genji’s earlier teasing suggestion flashes through his mind again and he forces his eyes forward, gritting his teeth against the mental images that accompany his brother’s words.

“Ya really do look mighty fine, darlin’. I have to wonder… this thing we’re goin’ to, it ain’t a fancy jig, is it? I’m gonna stick out like a sore thumb if it is.” He rubs at the back of his neck again, and Hanzo fights a smile. It is an adorable nervous tick he has. “Clearly it ain’t nothin’ like the festivals back home if that’s how yer goin’.”

“It is not fancy, I assure you,” Hanzo tells him. “I merely wished to… well, I wished to impress you.”

“Ya ain’t gotta try to do that, sugar. You already impress me every second we’re together.”

“You do not need to flatter me, cowboy. I am here. You have already wooed me.”

A big, cocky smirk slowly spreads across Jesse’s face, and he stops walking to reach out and snag Hanzo’s wrist, halting his movements as well. Hanzo half turns towards him, his heart in his throat at the way Jesse eyes him. Again, the cowboy drags his eyes over Hanzo’s body- from _geta_ to the gold ribbon pulling up his hair- as if appraising a prize he just won. Hanzo doesn’t show how much that look riles him, though. He returns the cowboy’s look with a challenging look of his own. Hanzo is not so simply won, and although the cowboy has already won him over, he’ll have to work hard to keep him. He must prove he is worth all the trouble and risk Hanzo is taking to be with him. At least, that is what he tries to tell the cowboy with the look he gives him.

Jesse is either too distracted to get that from Hanzo’s look, or he’s taken up the challenge, because he pulls Hanzo in with the hand wrapped around Hanzo’s wrist. The cowboy crowds into Hanzo’s space and meets his eyes- damn his height, Hanzo has to look up to maintain eye contact. One large hand comes up to settle on Hanzo’s hip, the other still wrapped- gently, yet still unbreakably- around his wrist.

“Oh have I now?” Jesse hums, his voice deep and reverberating through Hanzo’s chest. What he wouldn’t give to hear that low rumble again, only this time pressed chest to chest with the cowboy- sans clothing, of course. He wants to _feel_ that tone as much as he hears it.

“Perhaps,” Hanzo says flippantly, feigning a disinterest that doesn’t match the burning longing he is sure is visible in every aspect of his body language.

“And how, may I ask, was I lucky enough to manage that?” The cowboy’s voice is merely a breath now, his rough palm easing its way up his wrist to thread his thick fingers through Hanzo’s. Their mouths are mere inches apart, and Jesse’s eyes flick down to Hanzo’s lips, a tongue darting out to wet his own. Hanzo’s breath threatens to catch in his throat, as he fights to keep from closing the distance.

“If only I knew,” Hanzo breathes back. “It has taken me quite by surprise.”

“Ain’t a bad surprise, I’m hopin’.”

“No. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Their voices are so quiet, not daring to leave the minimal space between them. It’s as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist, as if Hanzo and his cowboy have been left in their own private little bubble where the outside world wouldn’t dare disturb their peace. Here, enveloped by the cowboy’s presence, Hanzo dares to feel… safe. He dares to feel free from the suffocating duty and responsibility he owes to his clan. It’s as if he can forget that his clan even exists. It’s dangerous, it’s reckless, and it’ll mean disaster for both of them, but here, Hanzo doesn’t care.

They are quickly snapped back into the present- unfortunately and frustratingly before what little space remained between their lips could be closed- by the sound of footsteps in a side street just behind them. The two pull apart as if electrocuted, continuing on their way with a respectable amount of space between them. Hanzo feels cold without the cowboy’s hot touch on his skin. Jesse is practically a walking space heater: if he’s close enough, Hanzo can feel his heat even without any sort of contact. But now that he’s experienced the heat of Jesse’s touch, he craves it. Simple proximity will not do. So as soon as the interrupting stranger crosses through the street they walk and disappears into another side street, Hanzo’s hand snakes out to find Jesse’s, weaving their fingers together.

“What are festivals in your country like?” Hanzo asks, remembering Jesse’s earlier comment.

“Surely ain’t nothin’ like how they are here. Lotsa fried food and usually a couple o’ pigs. Maybe some goats.”

Hanzo raises an eye at Jesse. “Pigs?”

“Well, I suppose that’s more of a fair than a festival…” Jesse hums in thought. “Either way, they ain’t nothin’ fancy.”

“And as I have assured you, the festival we are attending is not a fancy affair either. You need not worry about that.”

“Oh, I ain’t worried, darlin’. As ya also said, ain’t nobody gonna be lookin’ at me if I’m standin’ next to you. Although, now that I’m thinkin’ ‘bout it, maybe that is good reason to be worryin’.”

“Oh? Do explain.”

“Well, I ain’t the jealous type, darlin’, but I also never liked sharin’ much. With you lookin’ as beautiful as ya do, I’m sure you’ll be attractin’ all sorts of attention. I don’t know how I’ll measure up to the competition.”

“You need not worry about that either, my cowboy,” Hanzo finds himself saying, despite every desire he has to keep playing hard to get- or rather, hard to keep- with the cowboy. “You have no competition.”

Jesse’s hand squeezes his own in relief. Yes, it definitely was the right decision to wear his beautiful, eye catching _kimono._ He wants everyone to look. He wants to attract everyone’s attention. He wants everyone to be looking at him. He also wants them to see whose arm he’s draped over. He wants them to see Jesse with him and know that Hanzo has claimed him. That he is all Hanzo’s. And that Hanzo is all his. He wants everyone to know that they can look, but that they’ll never be able to touch. He _wants_ everyone to be jealous of the cowboy that is allowed to have Hanzo’s attention and company. He doesn’t know why, but it’s a burning, inexplicable need in his gut.

And it is exactly what Hanzo gets. When they arrive at the festival, it is clear from the moment they first walk through the streets how much attention Hanzo is garnering. At first, it puts Hanzo at unease. He usually tries to avoid all attention, at least when he is off on his own and not with his father or other important clan officials. He doesn’t usually like the spotlight. But after a while, when he catches some lingering stares, and even some envious glances shot at the cowboy at his side, his unease fades to be replaced with smug pride.

Jesse, despite his earlier worries, doesn’t even seem to notice the attention Hanzo draws. He excitedly looks over the stalls, leading Hanzo through the streets back and forth between the rows. He pauses to watch children and teenagers play a few games, he stops to listen to the live music despite not understanding the lyrics. The song they stop during happens to have a romantic theme, and Hanzo can’t help but lean in and whisper the translation into Jesse’s ear. Hanzo takes immense pleasure in the shiver it causes to run down the entire length of Jesse’s spine.

Jesse pulls Hanzo along, more excited than a child in a toy store, and Hanzo is happy to let him. Not once does Jesse pull away from where Hanzo had looped their arms together. And despite his eagerness, he doesn’t drag Hanzo along too quickly, mindful of the restrictiveness of his _kimono._ They stop to buy some food, sharing a variety of typical festival food. Hanzo isn’t quick enough to warn Jesse about the temperature of the _takoyaki_ , nor does he think to mention the near overwhelming sweetness of the _anko_ in the _taiyaki._ But Jesse takes it all in stride, and seems to enjoy everything he tries.

They stay for hours, after the parade of dancers and shrine maidens and dragon costumes held up on poles. They try many of the foods sold by the various venders, Jesse plays a few games, they watch the fireworks show, and Hanzo even buys him a charm for good fortune. It’s not until the festivities start to wind down, that the stalls start to close and the crowds start to clear, that Hanzo and Jesse leave hand in hand. It’s a little later than Hanzo had planned; he’ll have to send his brother a message to tell him he’ll be a few minutes late.

As per usual, they stop just around the corner of Jesse’s hotel to share a few passionate kisses. The cowboy’s strong arms circle Hanzo’s waist, Hanzo’s own hands fisted in the front of Jesse’s button down, clinging to the cowboy as if he could pull him even closer. Jesse seems to have the same desire, his arms tightening around Hanzo’s waist.

When they part for air- no other space put between them, neither willing to relinquish their hold- the look Jesse gives Hanzo confuses him. It’s as if he’s nervous, or unsure, about something, which is quite unusual for the cowboy. Hanzo tilts his head slightly. “You have something on your mind.”

“It’s just…” he starts, then hesitates a moment before starting again. “This might be a bit forward of me, it’s only our third date after all, but would ya… like to come up?” Hanzo’s heart nearly stops in his chest and he struggles to keep his surprise off his face. “Of course, ya don’t gotta if ya don’t want to. And of course it ain’t gotta lead to nothin’. We could just, uh… have a drink or-”

Hanzo smiles fondly and cuts off the cowboy’s ramblings with a finger over his lips. “You are rambling, my cowboy. And as much as I would love to join you in your room, I am already late in meeting my brother.” Hanzo offers him a smirk when he continues, “Besides, this is a rather expensive _kimono_ , and takes some measure of skill to remove. I do not trust you to remove it without damaging it.”

Jesse sighs with a breathy laugh, leaning his forehead against Hanzo’s. “Ya got me there. Sorry, darlin’. I’m just... I get nervous ‘round ya. I ain’t never felt this way with someone before. I’m dead afraid I’ll say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing, and send ya runnin’ for the hills. And if that happens… I don’t even know yer name to find ya again.”

Jesse lifts his forehead from Hanzo’s to meet his eyes. Hanzo knows exactly what the cowboy is going to say next. He’s come to expect it. He’s come to look forward to it, despite always disappointing the cowboy in the end. Jesse unwraps his arms from around Hanzo’s waist to bring them up and take Hanzo’s hands in his own. He gives Hanzo’s hands a squeeze, leaning in, but stopping just short of a kiss.

“Tell me yer name.”

“I can’t.”

…

Jesse McCree has been in Hanamura for over a month and a half. Hanzo still hasn’t given the cowboy his name, but Jesse hasn’t stopped asking. And every time he asks, it gets harder and harder for Hanzo to refuse him. But he can’t give Jesse his name. He can’t drag the cowboy into his messed up life. He won’t put his cowboy in danger like that. As it is, it’s becoming more and more difficult to keep his relationship with the cowboy a secret from the clan. Father has been growing suspicious. It was only a matter of time before he noticed how much Hanzo was sneaking out of the castle. Genji may be reckless, but even he didn’t use to be _this_ reckless. It’s become quite clear, even to the guards, that he’s purposefully trying to create distractions, much to the fury of the clan elders.

Hanzo feels a little guilty about the increased amount of trouble his brother is getting into with the clan elders on his account, but the cowboy won’t be in Japan much longer. Jesse still doesn’t know exactly when he’ll be leaving, but he seems to know it’ll be soon. Apparently, he doesn’t stay in one place for longer than a couple of months at a time- very indicative of a military operation. He knows he will be leaving soon, and even though Hanzo knew it would be coming eventually, he feels a dread in his gut every time he thinks about it. He doesn’t want his cowboy to leave him. Or worse, he doesn’t want his relationship to end with Jesse and his military company arresting- or killing- him.

Hanzo still doesn’t know what it is the cowboy does for work. He hasn’t asked, and he hasn’t been all that determined to find out. If it turns out Jesse really is here on a military operation against Hanzo’s clan, Hanzo doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t want his private little bubble of peace and happiness to burst any sooner than it has to.

As for that bubble of peace and happiness, it hasn’t progressed any further than it was the night of the festival. Jesse hasn’t invited him up since that first offer, and Hanzo hasn’t pressed it. For a while, he was afraid Jesse was going to pull back after Hanzo’s original refusal. He was worried that his cowboy was starting to grow bored with him, or perhaps was growing annoyed with Hanzo’s refusal to share his name. Hanzo is starting to realize that that is not the case, that Jesse still seems very interested in Hanzo. If anything, he simply appears nervous of pushing Hanzo further than he’s comfortable with. But Hanzo meant what he said the night of the festival. He really did want to go further with his cowboy. His whole body burns with that desire. So he’s decided that he’s done waiting for Jesse to make the invitation. It’s Hanzo turn to take the lead, and he plans to tonight.

With how determined he feels, he did not expect to also feel this nervous. He’s slower on his walk out to their usual meeting spot. His heart is racing in his chest, and his mouth feels dry. He hasn’t felt this nervous since he stormed into the main house of one of their smaller enemies to aim an arrow straight into the face of their _kumicho_. No, even then he was not this nervous. He is still not sure what it is about the cowboy that has all his intense training flying out the window, or has him second guessing everything he’s ever known. More than once he’s found himself imagining how good it would feel for Jesse’s military company to sweep in and take out his entire clan, and for he and Jesse to disappear together into the sunset- not unlike some cliché Western movie. It’s a fantasy he never would’ve entertained- or rather, never even would’ve had the imagination to dream up- before meeting his cowboy. He used to be one hundred and fifty percent dedicated to his clan. And now he wants nothing more than to leave it behind him and pursue a life away from this violence and bloodshed with his cowboy. He just hopes that, once Jesse leaves, Hanzo will be able to return back to that previous mindset and dedicate himself again to his clan.

Hanzo is surprised though when he rounds the corner and sees the upturned crate vacated of any cowboys. Hanzo takes a quick look around, but doesn’t see any sign of Jesse. This is the first time he’s arrived here before his cowboy. He’s immediately on alert, suddenly terrified that his clan somehow found out about his meetings with Jesse and got here before he did. A burning rage shoots through his veins, mixing nauseatingly with his panic. If his clan did anything to his Jesse-

“Sorry darlin’!”

Hanzo whips around to see his cowboy running towards him, a hand holding his hat securely on his head. The relief at seeing Jesse healthy and alive in front of him is enough to make Hanzo’s knees weak. This only goes to prove how dangerous it is for Hanzo to be associating with Jesse. Even if his clan hasn’t found out about him yet, it’s only a matter of time before they do. They’re already suspicious. Hanzo is taking measures to assure he isn’t being tracked or followed, but it would only take one slip up to endanger Jesse’s life. Hanzo knows he needs to end this, but he also knows he won’t. Not until Jesse ends it himself by leaving.

“Sorry, got caught up on the job. Lost track o’ time,” Jesse apologizes as he reaches Hanzo.

Now that Hanzo is calmed from his panicking, he’s able to take in his cowboy’s appearance. He’s not dressed in his worn jeans and plaid button down like he usually is. Even his hat and boots aren’t the same. He’s dressed in all black, his legs wrapped in some kind of black chaps. He wears a chest plate over top his shirt. His hat and boots- even the spurs jangling at his heels- are black. A pair of black gloves are tucked into his belt- two belts actually, one adorned with a different, yet still tacky belt buckle- right next to a rather large and old fashion gun. Hanzo scans Jesse quickly for any marks or symbols that might identify who he works for, but sees nothing. He also gets caught up in gawking over his cowboy. Jesse looks so dangerous, which plays at such a stark contrast to his usual soft look. But it does something to Hanzo. It starts a fire deep in his gut that he doubts he’ll be able to douse. He thinks that only the cowboy will be able to douse it.

A hint of red at the cowboy’s temple makes Hanzo start. He quickly closes the distance and reaches up to brush a thumb at Jesse’s hairline. “This is blood. Are you hurt?”

Jesse’s eyes widen a little and he looks embarrassed, of all things. “Nah, it ain’t mine, sugar. Sorry, thought I got myself cleaned up. Guess I missed a spot. Also didn’t have time to head back to my place and change.” The cowboy drops a hand to his hip. His hands may be large, but even they can’t cover the gun he’s discretely trying to hide.

Hanzo doesn’t remove his hand, instead lowering it to caress at Jesse’s cheek. “I am relieved you are unharmed. But you should take the time to go back to your hotel room, if only to drop off your weapon. If you are seen carrying it around, the police will be called.”

“Ah, maybe yer right.” Jesse gives him a sheepish grin, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I won’t be but a few minutes.”

He turns to leave, to head back for his hotel room, but Hanzo reaches out to catch his wrist. That fire is still burning in his gut, and he is going to take the opportunity presented to him.

“Would you mind if I accompanied you?” Hanzo asks him, trying to keep his voice even. “I would not mind a night in tonight. I have had… a rough day to say the least, and I could benefit greatly from a relaxing evening.” To say the least…. His morning started with sitting in on one of Genji’s lectures, which are never pleasant. It was made worse by the fact he knew it was entirely his fault Genji was being lectured that day. He later overheard some worrying conversations between a few of the elders trying to decide what is to be done with Genji. Father is also quite sick, and growing worse. Father’s sickness is bad enough when considered on its own, but it is causing discord within their ranks. The heads of the households they control are worried about the chain of succession, so starting today, Hanzo has had to make a few personal visits to instill faith in his ruthless ability to rule the empire if Father were to fall. To say today was stressful, tiring, and anxiety inducing would be an understatement. He needs this night with Jesse, he needs to release some tension and unwind.

Jesse’s eyes are wide for a moment, but then they soften and a smile pulls at his lips. “I ain’t ‘bout to say ‘no’ to that, darlin’. If I’m tellin’ the truth, I’ve been wantin’ to get ya up to my room for a long while now.” Jesse starts suddenly, then waves his hands as if to dismiss what he just said. “Of course, it ain’t gotta lead to nothin’! I ain’t gonna push you into nothin’.”

“Hmm,” Hanzo hums as he walks past Jesse, taking the lead on their way to Jesse’s hotel. “A shame. I was rather hoping you would push me into all kinds of things.”

The shock on Jesse’s face is priceless. Hanzo smirks has Jesse doubles over, hands braced on his knees. “God damn darlin’, I’m only a man. Yer gonna kill me.”

The cowboy follows on Hanzo’s heels like an excited puppy. Hanzo leads him through side streets and back alleys, trying to keep Jesse out of sight. It’s still pretty early in the evening, so it’s more difficult than Hanzo would’ve liked to keep Jesse from being noticed. He’s not sure how the cowboy managed while on his way to meet Hanzo. It also doesn’t help that Jesse keeps distracting Hanzo with hands on his ass every time Hanzo slows to peek around a corner. Hanzo nearly falters at one point when Jesse presses the entire length of his body up against Hanzo’s back.

“Be patient,” Hanzo tells him with all the authority he can muster as he attempts to swat the cowboy away. Considering all his training, he doesn’t manage very much, and it’s somewhat embarrassing.

They do manage to make it to the hotel without being seen, and for the first time Hanzo doesn’t stop around the corner. He steps inside alongside the cowboy, and positions himself at Jesse’s right hip to keep the gun hidden from sight. Thankfully there is no one in the elevator when it opens, nor anyone else waiting to get on. The second the doors slide closed behind them, Jesse is on him.

Eager, hungry lips find his and Hanzo gives into the longing that’s been eating at him all day- or rather, all month. With one hand, he reaches up to grab the cowboy’s hat and pull it off his head, and with the other, he threads his fingers into Jesse’s thick hair. His hard chest plate pressing into Hanzo’s chest is a little uncomfortable, but Hanzo isn’t about to step back. He’ll be removing it from the cowboy shortly. Jesse’s own hands are far from idle. They grab at Hanzo’s hips, his waist, trailing up his sides, then down his back to grab fistfuls of his ass. Hanzo determinedly decides not to be embarrassed by the moan that leaves his throat. Jesse returns it though, and the sound sends a thrill through Hanzo’s body and straight into his cock. Hanzo wants this cowboy- _needs_ him- like he’s never wanted anyone before.

When the elevator dings open, they pull apart only long enough to hurry through the hall to Jesse’s room. He pulls a key from his pocket and quickly throws the door open. They waste no time crowding back into each other’s space. Jesse’s lips press a firm, nearly desperate kiss to Hanzo’s own before trailing down his jaw to his neck. The cowboy’s hands return to Hanzo’s ass, sliding down to his thighs and lifting him off the ground. The cowboy hardly even hesitates at Hanzo’s weight, which somewhat impresses Hanzo. He wraps his legs around Jesse’s waist as he’s carried through the small hotel room to the bed.

Hanzo bounces a little when Jesse drops him onto the bed. Jesse doesn’t hold anything back as he looks over Hanzo on his bed, his eyes burning with the hunger of a man who hasn’t eaten in days. He reaches up to unclasp the chest plate and drop it to the floor. Then he works his way to his belt to unhook the holster and gun. He sets that down much more carefully than he did his chest plate.

“You are taking an awfully long time, cowboy,” Hanzo hums, relaxing back into the pillows. “If you do not hurry, I may grow bored and leave.”

Jesse hurriedly finishes stripping out of all his gear- hopping awkwardly to pull off his heavy boots- before crawling back onto the bed over Hanzo. The cowboy’s hands immediately find their place back on Hanzo’s body, stroking and caressing every inch of him they can reach. Hanzo pulls at Jesse’s shirt, sliding his hands beneath the hem. He feels over a firm stomach, covered in a soft layer of flesh. His fingers find more and more hair as he explores higher, the shirt bunching up around his wrists. With a desperate need to rid Jesse of all his clothes, and a low growl in the back of his throat, he pulls the shirt off over his head. Hanzo’s eyes are drawn to the solid expanse of the cowboy’s chest, coated liberally in curly brown hair. He runs his fingers through it, moving up to his shoulders to wrap his arms around Jesse’s neck and pull him down into a heated kiss.

Their clothes are quick to come off, Hanzo’s and the rest of Jesse’s, both stripped down to their underwear- Jesse’s red with little green cacti on them much to Hanzo’s amusement. The cowboy is just as talkative as he always is, much to Hanzo’s pleasure. “Yer so beautiful, so perfect. How’d I get lucky enough to get ya in my bed like this? I gotta be the luckiest damn man on the planet.” And so on. Most of it is murmured nonsense Hanzo can’t make out, but he soaks it up anyway. The cowboy seems perfectly content to lavish worship onto Hanzo’s body like this all night, but Hanzo has never been known for his patience.

He reaches between their bodies, and Jesse gasps against Hanzo’s lips when Hanzo squeezes what he finds beneath the cloth of the cowboy’s boxers. It’s hot, heavy, and fills Hanzo’s hand perfectly. Hanzo’s mouth goes dry, and he can’t wait any longer. He reaches for the elastic of Jesse’s boxers and pulls them down. A hand finds his wrist, stopping his desperate efforts.

“Woah there, sweetheart,” his cowboy murmurs just beneath Hanzo’s ear. He pauses to suckle against the skin at the juncture of Hanzo’s neck and jaw. A shiver runs down Hanzo’s spine, a shaky exhale leaving his lips. “Ain’t no rush. We got all night.”

Hanzo stills at those words, a shock running through his system. Jesse is right. They have all night. For the first time in his life, Hanzo doesn’t feel rushed to get through a sexual encounter. He doesn’t feel the need to simply get off, to find release, then get out of here as quickly as possible. This is not simply a passionless roll in the sheets to let out his sexual- and non-sexual- frustrations. He actually wants to be here, in this hotel room, with this man. Where he’s usually eager to get it over with as soon as possible, now, he never wants this to end. He doesn’t want to ever leave this room or his cowboy. He doesn’t want to have to return to the real world.

“You… are right. I apologize,” Hanzo murmurs, relaxing back into the sheets. His hands move back to Jesse’s chest.

“Hey now, no need to be apologizin’, darlin’,” Jesse murmurs into his sternum, his lips worshiping the smooth skin of Hanzo’s pectorals.

“I have never…” Hanzo starts, but his embarrassment halts his tongue.

Jesse pulls back a little, surprise coloring his expression. “You ain’t never… what? Been with a man?”

Hanzo exhales sharply, shooting Jesse an unimpressed look. “Of course I have been with a man. I have been with several men,” Hanzo informs him. “What I meant was, I have never been with someone I truly wanted to be with. Unfortunately, all of my experience comes from trying to make the encounter as quick as possible. I do not know how to… take it slowly.”

Jesse smiles. “Well I’m honored to be yer first, sugar.”

Hanzo sighs, rolling his eyes at the cowboy, but doesn’t say anything further. Jesse returns to kissing his way over Hanzo’s chest to his tattoo. He mouths over the ink, suckling over Hanzo’s shoulder and upper arm.

“That’s quite some ink ya got there,” Jesse murmurs into his skin. “Only caught a glimpse of it a couple o’ times. Didn’t realize how big or impressive it was. But I shoulda known, it belongin’ to you and all.”

Hanzo doesn’t say anything. He has nothing to say about his tattoo that wouldn’t lead Jesse to discovering who he is. So he says nothing, simply dragging Jesse back up for another kiss. Jesse hums into the kiss, and Hanzo can feel his smile against his lips. Hanzo does as Jesse requests, letting the cowboy take the lead and… take it slow. And slow it is. Jesse seems intent on memorizing every inch of Hanzo’s body by the feel of his hands and lips alone. Hanzo lays back and lets him, and he quickly realizes how nice it feels to be worshiped as so. He wants to return the favor, but he’s not sure he knows how. This gentleness, this passion, it’s all so new to Hanzo. He tries to pay attention to exactly what Jesse is doing to him, he tries to copy the way his hands touch and move, but he feels he is falling far short. His cowboy seems to be enjoying his touch though, humming into Hanzo’s skin. When Hanzo fists his hands in Jesse’s hair, it draws a deep throated groan from the cowboy, and that seems to spur him onward.

Jesse’s lips trail down Hanzo’s stomach, following a thin trail of hair to the hem of Hanzo’s briefs. A hand joins his lips at Hanzo’s waist, pulling the fabric down to allow his lips access to what he finds beneath. Hanzo’s breath hitches, his hands fisting tighter in the cowboy’s hair. A tongue joins the lips as they kiss and lick their way down the side of Hanzo’s half hard shaft. It doesn’t take long for the cowboy to coax Hanzo to full hardness, then his lips wrap around the head of Hanzo’s cock. Hanzo sucks in a sharp breath, reflex trying to force his eyes closed, but he insists on watching. He watches, mesmerized, as his cock disappears into the tight heat of Jesse’s mouth. It only takes a few strokes, a few strong sucks, before Hanzo starts to feel a tightness in his gut, a coil about to snap. He can’t finish this quickly. He will not embarrass himself in such a way. And more importantly, he will not allow this to end so soon.

“Jesse,” he groans, pulling at Jesse’s hair. “Too much.”

Jesse pulls his mouth from Hanzo’s throbbing cock with a slick pop and a smug grin. He kisses his way back up Hanzo’s body until he finds Hanzo’s lips. The cowboy’s lips don’t part from Hanzo’s own as he reaches over into the drawer of the bedside table. He drops the items he finds next to Hanzo’s hip, his hands returning to caressing up Hanzo’s sides.

“How d’you wanna do this, darlin’?” Jesse asks around a kiss.

Hanzo hesitates. He doesn’t know the answer to that question. He hadn’t thought at all about ‘how he wanted to do this’. He had simply been following his cowboy’s lead, as he assumed he would be doing throughout the rest of their night together.

Jesse must take Hanzo’s silence as hesitance, because he starts to pull back. “I’m comfortable goin’ either way, sweetheart. So if ya wanna-”

“I want you to fuck me, Jesse McCree,” Hanzo interrupts him. He may not have expressly thought about what he wanted to happen tonight, but he knows what he had expected to happen. And he wants that. “I want to be able to feel the ghost of you inside me for days.”

His cowboy’s cheeks actually grow red, and Hanzo can visibly see his pupils dilate. When he recovers from his surprise at Hanzo’s straightforwardness, he drops his forehead onto Hanzo’s chest with a long groan. “Darlin’, you got no idea what yer doin’ to me.” When he lifts his head to meet Hanzo’s eyes, Hanzo is met with a lustful grin. “I’m thinkin’ I can do that for ya though.”

“I sure hope you can, or I have chosen the wrong cowboy to spend this night with,” Hanzo teases in return.

A fire seems to ignite in Jesse’s eyes, and he surges forward with a grumbled, “Like hell,” before claiming Hanzo’s lips in a hungry kiss. It feels as if Jesse is trying to devour him whole, and Hanzo sighs into the kiss, wrapping his arms around the cowboy’s thick shoulders to pull him in even closer.

He hears the pop of a cap, then moments later a cold slick is circling his entrance. Hanzo’s breath hitches as one thick finger pushes carefully, gently inside of him. Hanzo releases the breath, exhaling slowly as the finger presses deeper, until he feels Jesse’s knuckles against his ass. Hanzo hasn’t been penetrated in many, many years, and only once during a bout of curiosity. He hadn’t particularly enjoyed it then, but he always knew that was due to the inadequacy and inexperience of his partner at the time. The unsatisfactory experience had left him no desire to try again though. At least, not until now. He knew from the moment he decided he wanted to sleep with this cowboy, that he wanted the cowboy inside him. And so far, it’s living up to every expectation- and more- Hanzo had set.

Jesse stills when his finger bottoms out inside Hanzo. Hanzo exhales a groan against Jesse’s lips, curling his fingers against the cowboy’s shoulder blades. “Move, cowboy,” Hanzo commands, his voice rough.

“’Course, darlin’.”

Jesse pulls his finger back, only to drive it back in, and Hanzo stop the gasp that it pulls from his throat. The gasp quickly turns into a groan as Jesse finds a steady rhythm, then adds another finger. He stretches Hanzo, preparing him for the thick heat he knows is beneath the cowboy’s red boxers. It burns, but in a good way. Hanzo enjoys this sting, this hint of pain. It’s far different than any kind of pain he’s ever experienced before.

Jesse is gentle though, and overly cautious. He preps Hanzo well, even adding a third finger for a few strokes before pulling out. The sudden emptiness sends a shiver up Hanzo’s spine, and he grabs for the elastic waistband of the cowboy’s boxers to pull them down. Jesse chuckles as he sits back, letting Hanzo drag the material down his hips.

“Ya really ain’t very patient, are ya sugar?”

Hanzo tries not to be distracted by the sight of the thick cock hanging hard between Jesse’s legs. “Patience is not my strongest quality. I am not used to waiting for things I desire.”

“Things ya desire, huh? Well, who am I to keep ya waitin’ any longer, sweetheart?”

With that, Jesse kicks the rest of the way out of his boxers and reaches for the condom he had left on the sheets by Hanzo’s hip. He rips open the foil, but Hanzo is quick to reach for the condom, taking it from his cowboy. He takes Jesse in his hand, giving him a few strokes- Jesse drags in a shuddering inhale- before rolling on the condom. Jesse squeezes out more lube onto his cock before leaning back over Hanzo. His strong arms hook beneath Hanzo’s knees, lifting his legs up to give him a better angle. Hanzo’s hands fall automatically to Jesse’s chest, threading his fingers through the thick hair he finds there.

“Ya ready, darlin’?”

“Fuck me, Jesse,” Hanzo demands by way of answer.

Jesse answers him by leaning in to press a searing kiss to Hanzo’s lips as he reaches between them. His hand guides his cock to Hanzo’s entrance, and Hanzo holds his breath as his cowboy- finally, _finally_ \- presses into him. Jesse groans into the kiss, biting at Hanzo’s lower lip. When he bottoms out, Hanzo releases the breath he had been holding with a moan. Jesse releases Hanzo’s lips to press his forehead against Hanzo’s.

“Fuck yer so tight, darlin’. So hot,” he breathes. “Ya feel so damn good.”

“I could say the same for you,” Hanzo replies, his voice sounding embarrassingly breathy to his own ears. He hopes the cowboy is too distracted to notice. It’s on the tip of his tongue to plead with Jesse to move, to give him friction, but Hanzo does not plead for anything. Hanzo commands. “Now are you going to talk? Or are you going to fuck me until I cannot walk?”

“Fuck,” Jesse moans loudly. Hanzo is not sure if it is an answer, or simply a response to Hanzo’s crude words.

He pulls his hips back, then snaps them forward with such force that Hanzo gasps, hands clutching at Jesse’s chest. They work their way up Jesse’s chest to his shoulders to wrap around his neck. Jesse hitches Hanzo’s legs up higher, resting one over a broad shoulder. He pounds into Hanzo, and despite Hanzo’s teasing, Jesse continues to talk. Just as he did when they were undressing, and just as he always seems to do, his cowboy continues to babble all sorts of sweet words and nonsense. Hanzo loves it though. He lets it fill his ears and something deep in his chest as his cowboy thrusts deeply into him.

Jesse shifts their position, lifting Hanzo’s hips higher to get a deeper angle. On his next thrust, his cock finds the small bundle of nerves that has Hanzo’s vision swimming and pleasure exploding through his entire body. He has never felt such a feeling before, has only heard of it from past partners and a little online research- and disturbingly, from his brother, although he’s trying very hard to forget that entire conversation. Nothing could’ve prepared him for how it truly feels though. His grip tightens uncontrollably on his cowboy, fingertips digging into the tanned flesh of his shoulder blades as a strangled moan is ripped from him.

Jesse pulls back just enough to grin down at Hanzo. “Found it,” he grins, his voice deep, rumbling through his broad chest.

He doesn’t give Hanzo the chance to respond, instead angling his hips to thrust into the bundle of nerves again. Hanzo whines, and is much too overwhelmed with pleasure to even be embarrassed by it.

“That’s it, baby. Lemme hear ya,” Jesse groans into Hanzo’s neck.

With Jesse’s words, his hard thrusts, and the occasional brush of his cock against his prostate, it’s not long before Hanzo feels his release building back up again. When Jesse reaches for his neglected cock, Hanzo brushes his hand away. If Jesse touches him now, he will not be able to hold off his release any longer- and he is far from ready for this to end just yet. It feels too good. He feels more pleasure than he ever has in his life. And he wants to prolong it as long as possible.

“No, I am… close,” Hanzo moans between Jesse’s thrusts.

“Ya ain’t gotta fight it,” Jesse breathes into Hanzo’s neck, snapping his hips hard into Hanzo’s with a slap of skin on skin. “I’m gonna be lovin’ on ya all night, sugar.”

A heat races through Hanzo’s veins, and his head spins in lustful desire at merely the thought of letting his cowboy be intimate with him like this for hours on end. He’s not sure he can allow himself to stay here with Jesse all night- he must get back to the castle before someone notices he is missing, as always- but he can definitely allow for a few more hours. Plenty of time for them to be intimate more than this once.

“Come for me, darlin’,” Jesse murmurs against Hanzo’s lips, teasing him with the promise of a kiss. His hand finds Hanzo’s hard cock, giving it a long pull. “I wanna see the pretty expressions you make when ya come.”

Hanzo curses in Japanese, his whole body tightening around his building orgasm. All it takes is a few more thrusts from Jesse, a few more words whispered into his ear, a few strokes of his already throbbing cock, before he’s coming with another curse across his stomach. Jesse continues to murmur sweet nothings to Hanzo as he strokes him through his orgasm.

The pleasure starts to turn into overstimulation, his sensitivity spiking just over the edge of too much. But Jesse’s thrusts have become fast and erratic, his head ducked against Hanzo’s collarbone. He’s close to his own release, and Hanzo continues to clutch at Jesse’s shoulders, his heals digging into the small of the cowboy’s back, as he murmurs his own sweet nothings to his cowboy in his native tongue.

When Jesse comes, it’s with a grunt and a sharp snap of his hips, his thrusts stilling, his whole body shuddering over top of Hanzo’s. They stay like that for a few long moments, both of them trying to catch their breaths. Jesse is breathing heavily atop him, and Hanzo can feel him softening inside him before he slowly pulls out. Hanzo shudders at the feeling, at the coldness of the air settling in the space Jesse’s- quite unusually- warm body used to occupy. When the cowboy collapses into the sheets next to Hanzo, some deep urge Hanzo was unaware existed has him curling into his cowboy’s side, seeking his warmth and closeness.

Jesse shifts next to Hanzo, but only to pull off the condom and tie it off, tossing it into a trashcan beside the bed. The motion does nothing to disturb the peaceful, pleasant, post-sex haze that has settled over Hanzo. His cowboy settles then, a thick arm working its way beneath Hanzo to pull him closer into his side. Hanzo allows it, burying his face into Jesse’s chest. His chest hair tickles Hanzo’s nose, but Hanzo dare not move. He would stay here in Jesse’s arms forever if he could. He would let this happiness, this tranquility, seep into every fiber of his being and bask in it for the rest of his days. It’s a dangerous feeling, a risky desire. And this man- and his embrace- whom he never wants to leave doesn’t even know his name.

As if reading Hanzo’s thoughts, Jesse shifts beside him, a hand coming up to stroke through Hanzo’s loose hair. “Tell me yer name.”

Hanzo’s hand tightens into a fist on Jesse’s chest. He does not lift his head to meet the cowboy’s eyes. “I can’t,” he murmurs. “But you do not know how much I wish I could.”

Jesse doesn’t press, his hand continuing to card through Hanzo’s hair in a manner that should be much more soothing. But Hanzo’s mind is still buzzing, the request burning away at him unlike it ever has before. It loosens his tongue, drives him to continue.

“It is for the continuance of this freedom I have to meet you, for your own safety, that I refuse to share my name,” Hanzo tells him, forcing his fist to relax so he can trace aimless patterns across the cowboy’s chest. He can feel his still accelerated heartbeat beneath his fingertips. “If not for my concern over your safety, if I were not worried my secret would end what little time we have together, I would tell you with no reluctance. I would tell you for my own selfish desire to hear my name murmured passionately in my own ear by your voice. But no amount of pleasure I would take from that is worth your safety.”

“Sweetheart, if yer in trouble, you can tell me,” Jesse says, his hold around Hanzo tightening in a comforting gesture. “I can take ya away from here. To someplace you’ll be safe.”

Hanzo does lift himself from Jesse’s chest then, meeting the cowboy’s eyes. He knows his shock is clear on his face, but he is unable to hide it. He can’t help the surge of hope that fills his chest at the suggestion. Hanzo already knows the cowboy must be a part of a powerful organization. There’s no other reason why an American would be conducting a military operation here in Japan. He probably does have the ability to take Hanzo away from here. All Hanzo would have to do is say ‘yes’. “Jesse, I…”

“Run away with me,” Jesse says, his voice nearly a whisper. His eyes are pleading. “I can keep ya safe.”

Hanzo wants to say yes. Desperately. It’s on the tip of his tongue, and for a long moment he knows it’s the only word he’d be able to speak. But he holds his tongue. Yes, Jesse likely belongs to a very powerful military organization that would gladly take him in. In handcuffs. Housed in a prison cell. It is likely that is Jesse and his organization’s entire goal. It is likely that is exactly how all this will end. He wonders if Jesse will be able to do it. Will his cowboy be able to put him in handcuffs and drag him into a life- possibly even a death- sentence? Or will he be unable to carry out his job when the time comes? Will his commanding officers have to call in someone else to arrest him? Hanzo knows he would be unable to bring harm to Jesse in any way, in any situation.

Hanzo is surprised to feel a tightness in his throat, a burning behind his eyes, that he hasn’t felt in years- not since he was a very young boy and his mother was still alive. He forces the emotions- and their side effects- back and steels himself.

“I wish it were that easy,” Hanzo responds, curling back into Jesse’s side to help hide his feelings from his cowboy. “But you do not know what it is you are asking of me. What it is you are asking me to leave behind. I have… I have duties and responsibilities. I cannot leave. No matter how much I wish I could.”

“I ain’t gonna stop askin’,” Jesse tells him, his hand caressing up and down the bare skin of Hanzo’s back. “For yer name, or for you to run away with me.”

That does pull a smile from Hanzo, even if it is bitter sweet. “And I hope you do not.”

…

True to Jesse’s word, they make love another two times before Hanzo realizes he can’t linger in this bed with the cowboy any longer. He gets to have his cowboy inside him again, as well as getting to be inside his cowboy in return. They try a number of different positions Hanzo had never even considered before, a number of cheeky suggestions Jesse gives, and is surprised when Hanzo agrees. Usually pretty set in what he wants- preferring to stick with what he knows to avoid surprises and discomforts- Hanzo surprises himself as well with his readiness to try whatever his cowboy suggests. Perhaps it is simply because all Hanzo wants is to be with this cowboy- the how merely an insignificant factor that plays no part in his desire. If he could, Hanzo would never leave this bed. But unfortunately, it is well past midnight when they finish for the third time, and Hanzo needs to get home before someone notices his absence.

Hanzo hums into Jesse’s chest, Jesse’s arms a comforting weight wrapped around his waist. “I must go,” Hanzo tells him.

“Must ya?” Jesse hums back. Hanzo looks up and his eyes are closed. He seems moments from falling asleep, and the tired pull in Hanzo’s own body says he’s not far from joining him. Jesse’s hand continues to stroke along Hanzo’s spine, the movement and gentle touch only adding to the sleepy haze settling on his tired consciousness.

“I suppose I can allow a few more minutes…” Hanzo replies, letting his eyes slip closed. What would a few more minutes of peace and happiness hurt?

…

When Hanzo next opens his eyes, it takes him a moment to realize where he is. The warm, solid chest beneath his cheek is a quick indicator though, and he slowly opens his eyes. The room is still dark. Hanzo must not have been asleep long. With a sleepy sigh, Hanzo tenses all his muscles, then relaxes them. His lower back aches, as does between his legs, but it only makes a smile spread across Hanzo’s face. He told his cowboy he wanted to feel the ghost of him inside him for days. This is surely a start.

Hanzo’s stirring must rouse Jesse, because with a low groan, he stretches beneath Hanzo, his thick arms raising above his head as the muscles in his chest and stomach tighten and shift. Hanzo watches, eyes still hazy with the lingering pull of sleep. He presses a kiss to Jesse’s chest as the cowboy relaxes again, trailing his lips down to Jesse’s nipple. He pulls the nub into his mouth, teasing it between his teeth.

“Mmm,” Jesse moans, his hands coming up to thread through Hanzo’s hair. “Eager for another round, sugar?”

Hanzo sits up, pulling himself overtop of Jesse to straddle his waist. He can feel the cowboy hardening beneath him, and Hanzo rolls his hips against him. Jesse hums, now fully awake, as he reaches up to grab at Hanzo’s hips.

“Ya sure know how to wake a guy up,” he says with a grin.

“I am not finished with-”

It’s at that moment that Hanzo catches sight of the clock on the nightstand, and his whole body freezes. 5:13. It takes a moment for Hanzo to regain control of his limbs, but when he does, he’s leaping out of bed to dive for his clothes.

“Hey now, sweetheart,” Jesse says as he sits up, a hand reaching out to splay across Hanzo’s shoulder blades as he sits to pull on his pants. “Where’s the fire?”

“It is already early morning. I slept much longer than I intended. If my father wakes to find me gone-” Hanzo cuts himself off before he can reveal any more. He also forces himself to his feet before he gets lost in the cowboy’s touch.

“What? What’ll he do?” Jesse asks, his voice quiet.

“He will be angry,” is all the answer Hanzo gives him. “I must go home.”

“A’right, I ain’t gonna fight ya,” Jesse relents. “I will see ya again though, won’t I?”

Hanzo does look back at him then, and offers the cowboy a soft smile. “Of course. As I started to tell you: I am not finished with you yet, my cowboy.”

Jesse grins back, relaxing back into the pillows with his arms crossed behind his head. “Tonight?”

Hanzo snorts a laugh as he pulls on his shoes. “You are insatiable.”

“Hey now, you were the one crawlin’ all over me a minute ago.”

“That I was,” Hanzo hums. “But I cannot sneak out again so soon. If someone has noticed my absence, I will need to lay low and stay home for a while.”

Jesse’s smile starts to fade. He replaces it with a forced smile, one to hide how he’s truly feeling, and Hanzo wonders what it is he’s trying to hide. “Won’t be too long though, I’m hopin’?”

“No,” Hanzo concedes, a hand on the doorknob. “Shall we say three nights? In three nights, meet me at our regular location.”

Jesse’s genuine smile returns, and he pulls himself out of bed. Hanzo watches, amused and somewhat turned on, as the cowboy- in all his naked glory- steps right up to Hanzo and takes his face in his hands. “I’m lookin’ forward to it, love.”

Hanzo’s breath catches at the soft word spoken from Jesse’s lips. His heart races. He searches desperately for a response, but he can’t find one. Instead, he lays his hands over top of Jesse’s, and reaches up on his toes to press a kiss to Jesse’s lips.

“As am I.”

…

When Hanzo reaches the castle, it is all too easy to slip past the guard and up into his rooms. He tiptoes his way quietly through the halls, easing open the sliding _shoji_ door to his room. He sneaks inside, absolutely silent, and pulls the door closed behind him. When he turns back around, he is embarrassed by the way he jumps in surprise at the figure splayed out on his _futon_.

Genji is grinning ear to ear, a shit-eating grin if Hanzo has ever seen one. He’s laying out across Hanzo’s _futon_ as if it’s his own, his head propped up by a hand. It takes Hanzo a moment to calm his pounding heart, and Genji takes full advantage of that time.

“Well well well look who’s turn it is to do the walk of shame,” Genji hums in amusement. “Where were you last night, _anija_? Wait! Don’t answer. Let me guess: you were out riding your-”

Hanzo crosses to the _futon_ in three long strides and slaps a hand over his younger brother’s mouth. “Shh. Someone will hear you.” Genji’s tongue flicks out to lick across Hanzo’s palm, and he pulls his hand away in disgust. “You are a child.”

“Give me details,” Genji begs. “How many times? How big? Was he a talker? Was he wild and rough? Or gentle and passionate?”

Hanzo glares at him, ignoring the twinge in his back, between his legs, that reminds him exactly what he did with Jesse last night. He knows his brother doesn’t want to hear the details of his sex life, but knows that Hanzo will never actually answer his inappropriate questions. And he is right. Even if Genji weren’t his blood brother, Hanzo wouldn’t tell him anything about the night he just spent with Jesse. That belongs across town, in their own private place. It is a separate life than what Hanzo leads here in the castle.

“I didn’t mean to stay out so late. I… I fell asleep. Did anyone notice I was out?” Hanzo asks as he sits down on the _futon_ next to Genji.

“I doubt it. I saw you sneaking out and told Father you weren’t feeling well and that you’d be spending the night resting.” Genji gives him a somewhat serious look for the first time since Hanzo found him laying out across his bed. “He seemed alright with it, saying that you’ve been working very hard recently and that you needed a rest. But I think he might be getting suspicious. Your entire work ethic has changed. You used to work diligently at all hours of the day and night, but now you pack everything into the daylight hours so that you can go sneaking off with your cowboy, and Father might be catching on. Please be careful, _aniki._ ”

Hanzo looks down at his hands in his lap. “I will, brother. Besides,” Hanzo murmurs, trying to keep all emotion from his voice- more for his own sake than to hide it from Genji, “he will be going home soon. It is not much longer that I will have to be careful.”

…

He and Jesse meet up nearly every night over the next two weeks. Most weeks they go straight back to Jesse’s hotel room and spend the night in passionate bliss. Some nights they go out to eat- Hanzo finally treats his American cowboy to sushi, which Jesse seems to enjoy, like everything Hanzo has had him try- and some nights they go for long, aimless walks through narrow back streets and parks. Hanzo loves every second of it though, no matter where they go or what they do. Hanzo enjoys every second of it, knowing that it’s coming to an end soon.

But no matter how much Hanzo attempts to prepare himself for the end- possibly a violent and bloody one- he ends up not prepared at all.

They’re lying in bed together, their legs tangled beneath the sheets, Hanzo’s cheek resting on Jesse’s chest. They’re still breathing a little hard from their earlier activities. Hanzo is tracing a finger through Jesse’s chest hair. His cowboy has been unusually quiet- through the sex and after- and Hanzo knows there is something on his mind. Hanzo has a strong feeling he knows what it is.

“Sugar, I…” Jesse starts, then stops. His hand- that had been stroking heavily, yet gently across Hanzo’s back- stills and if Hanzo focuses all of his attention, he can feel the subtle tremor in Jesse’s fingertips. “The job I was doin’ here… well, I finished it tonight,” Jesse tells him.

Hanzo sits up to look his cowboy in the eye, trying to hide his surprise. His job here is done? The castle hasn’t been raided. There have been no attacks on his family. That must mean Jesse’s military organization was never after the Shimada Clan. Or perhaps, the end goal of his mission wasn’t arrests and disbandment of the clan. Perhaps he was just here to do surveillance? To gather information? Hanzo is embarrassed to realize that he’s hopeful. If that was all Jesse was here for, that means he could come back some day.

“I’m shippin’ out tomorrow mornin’,” Jesse tells him. “Headin’ back home to the States. So, I guess what I’m sayin’ is… this is the last time I’m gonna be able to offer ya this: leave with me tomorrow.”

“I can’t-” Hanzo breathes.

“Wait,” Jesse says, lifting a hand to stroke his fingertips ever so gently across Hanzo’s cheek. “Before ya give me yer final answer, I need ya to know all the facts. I gotta lay all my cards out on the table.”

“Are you going to finally tell me what it is you do for a living? What it is that brought out all the way out here to Japan?” Hanzo teases, attempting to cover up the way his heart is threatening to pound through his ribcage.

“Unfortunately I ain’t got the authority to tell ya that. I wasn’t lyin’ when I said it was hush hush business. But I can tell ya that my employers are powerful people, and they can protect ya. I can protect ya. But, nah, that ain’t what I was gonna tell ya. No, what I wanted to say was… I…” Jesse hesitates again, his fingers continuing to caress Hanzo’s face. His eyes are searching, looking for something in the gaze Hanzo returns, although Hanzo can’t tell what. His heart is still pounding in his ears. “I think I’m fallin’ for ya.” Hanzo’s heart stops. Jesse laughs. “I’m fallin’ in love with ya, and I ain’t even know yer name.”

…

With the first morning light, and the faint chirping of birds, Hanzo is pulled from his restless sleep. He pries his eyes open. The light irritates the hangover headache he feels growing in the back of his skull. He stares out across the bare floor of the empty, abandoned apartment building he’s been squatting in for the last three days. Empty sake bottles litter the floor around him. His bow and quiver lay among them. He tries to find the energy to sit up. He can’t.

With his wakefulness, everything he tried to forget with alcohol comes flooding back. His brother is alive. Or is he? The glowing green cyborg wants him to think so. But those eyes… those were Gen- those were his brother’s eyes. He would know those eyes anywhere. He remembers exactly how they looked ten years ago when he tried to destroy them.

Everything fell apart after that night. That last, fateful night he spent with… with the American cowboy. That night, when he had professed his love for the nameless _yakuza_ he had shared a secret fling with, when Hanzo had been unable to reciprocate the sentiment- despite returning it whole heartedly- was the night Hanzo’s heart was ripped from his chest. It was the last night he felt anything. The cowboy took his heart with him when he left Japan, leaving Hanzo all alone in that hell of a clan.

With his heart and love gone, when Hanzo realized he’d never feel for anyone again like he did for his cowboy, he threw himself fully into his duty. He dedicated everything he had left to the clan, to inheriting Father’s role at the head of the _yakuza_ clan. It was only about a year later when Father fell ill and passed. But it was long enough. It was long enough for the elders and what remained of his father to erase any sense of feeling or emotion left within Hanzo. They completed their conditioning of the heir. Even Hanzo’s relationship with his brother suffered and completely deteriorated. Which made it all too easy for them to convince Hanzo that he needed to eliminate his troublesome brother.

Hanzo had been wrong though. He thought he could no longer feel anything for anyone anymore, but he was wrong. When he tore his blade through Genji’s flesh, when he set his dragons on his own brother, he realized that he did have a semblance of feeling left. And it was for his brother, who lay bleeding out and dying in some dirty back street of Hanamura.

Realizing what he had done had broken what little of him remained. He ran, he killed, and he hid. For ten years, he hid and killed and ran until there was no one left to kill, nowhere left to run. Once every last elder that called for Genji’s death was dead, he fled Japan. He took assassination jobs here and there. He lived out of abandoned buildings and in alleys and the forests of the world. He spent every waking hour either killing, or trying to use alcohol to drown out the memory of sun tanned skin and a warm smile. Of rough, yet gentle hands. Of kind words in a deep tone. He also needed to drown out the feeling of his blade slicing through his brother’s flesh. Of the look of betrayal and pain in those once soft, cheerful eyes. Of the way his blood dripped from Hanzo’s blade to splash in the pool of it beneath his brother’s body. Of the worst thing Hanzo has ever done in his entire, miserable life.

But his brother- the cyborg- has given him another chance. He said that he… that he forgives Hanzo. Hanzo can’t quite believe that much, but his brother is giving him a chance. A chance to make up for all the wrong he’s committed. It’s been all Hanzo could think about for the last two weeks since his fight with the cyborg at Hanamura Castle. At first Hanzo had been repulsed, hard set in his refusal. But now, now that he’s had time to think, he knows he needs to take the cyborg- his brother- up on his offer. On his offer of redemption.

Hanzo reaches for the burner phone sitting innocently beside his quiver. There is only one number programmed into it, and Hanzo takes a breath before dialing it.

…

The journey is long, but Hanzo spends the entirety of it in silence. The peppy British girl that had arrived to pick him up tried to talk with him, but quickly realized that Hanzo wasn’t going to return her conversation. She left him alone then, and Hanzo appreciates the quiet before what he can assume will be an eventful introduction. He hopes his brother will be there.

He is. When the plane lands and Hanzo steps down the ramp and onto the tarmac, his brother is the only one there. Even the British girl seems to have disappeared, leaving the two of them alone. Hanzo stiffly approaches his brother, but Genji seems to have no such reservations. He runs up to Hanzo- faster than should be possible- and pulls Hanzo into a tight hug. The press of his hard metal body is slightly uncomfortable, but Hanzo allows it. When he releases Hanzo, he doesn’t entirely release him. He keeps Hanzo tucked into his side with one arm over his shoulders, just as Genji always did when they were younger and alive and living together in Hanamura. A long forgotten feeling starts to thrum in the cold hollow of his chest where his heart used to beat.

“Brother! I can’t believe you’re here,” he says.

“Nor can I, if I am being honest,” Hanzo tells him.

“Well I’m glad you’re here,” Genji responds, starting to pull Hanzo along with the arm still looped over his shoulders. “Come. Let me introduce you to my friend!”

He pulls Hanzo around the aircraft, towards where the hanger doors are, and Hanzo freezes in his steps. Genji’s friend is waiting there, leaning casually against the wall. His head is tipped down, the wide brim of his hat obscuring Hanzo’s view of his face. But Hanzo knows who it is. He knows those faded jeans and that red plaid button down shirt. He knows that gaudy belt buckle, those flashy spurs, that huge gun hanging at his hip. He knows the shape of that body- even if it has filled out a little more in the ten years they were apart- intimately well. His left arm is made of metal now, a prosthetic- Hanzo briefly wonders how he lost the arm, but his attention doesn’t linger on the detail- but it still holds a familiar tacky skull design. And when the sound of their approach alerts the figure, and he looks up, Hanzo knows that tanned skin, that slightly crooked nose, those dark eyes filled with emotion. His beard is fuller now, the laugh lines around his eyes more defined, but it’s the same face Hanzo remembers from secret rendezvous and many passionate nights. It’s a face he never thought he’d see again.

“Hey there,” his cowboy says with a tip of his hat. Oh how Hanzo has missed the sound of that voice. “McCree’s the name. Jesse McCree.”

It’s a monumental effort for Hanzo to rein in his shock. Jesse is standing there, right in front of him, and the dead heart in his chest that had started to come back to life with Genji’s reappearance overwhelms him with the pain of memories he had long tried to forget. And he feels an entirely new sense of pain when he doesn’t see any sign of recognition in his- in Jesse’s eyes.

It takes a moment for Hanzo to form the word on his tongue. How many times had he wished he could say it to Jesse when they were together? Now his chance is finally here, but the cowboy doesn’t even remember him.

“Hanzo.”

…

“You are moping. What’s wrong, _anija_?”

It’s nightfall, and the two brothers are sitting on a cliffside at the old, abandoned Overwatch Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Genji had given Hanzo a tour of the base, introduced him to the other agents living here. He met a number of interesting characters, all introduced to him as Genji’s friends. But if Hanzo is being honest, he doesn’t remember much of it. He had floated through the rest of the day in a shocked haze. All he could see was McCree’s neutral expression. All he could hear were McCree’s flat words. After everything they felt in their short time together, how could he not remember Hanzo? When Hanzo had spent ten years desperate- yet unable- to forget, how could he so easily accomplish the feat?

Hanzo leans into Genji’s side, taking comfort in his brother’s presence- a comfort he thought he’d never feel again. “I do not think he recognizes me.”

Genji looks down at him- his visor is off, sitting by his knee, and Hanzo can see his confusion clearly in his expression. “McCree?” he asks.

“He does not remember me at all.”

“What are you talking about, _anija_?”

Hanzo swallows around a lump in his throat. “Do you remember, all those years ago, my… fling with an American cowboy? It was only a year or so before Father died, before….”

“Ah yes! Of course I remember! How could I forget your-” Genji cuts himself off as realization and shock morph his scared face. He pulls away from Hanzo, upsetting Hanzo’s balance and nearly causing him to fall over. “ _No_ ,” he breathes. “That was _Jesse_?!”

“It was,” Hanzo sighs, leaning back into Genji’s side.

“But you told me… that night after he left, when I held you as you cried in your rooms… you told me that he said he loved you. If that was really Jesse, then he’d have remembered you. Jesse has a heart of gold, and when he cares about someone, he’d do anything for them. How could he not remember you?”

“I do not know.”

Genji doesn’t say any more, merely letting Hanzo wallow in his despair. And afterwards, he lets Hanzo leave alone to head to his assigned room- the room Genji had shown him earlier that day. Hanzo takes the long way- not because he gets lost, not at all- and lets his mind wander as he walks. He’ll have to do what he can to avoid McCree. He’ll stay out of his sight, and hopefully, eventually, Hanzo will be able to move on. Perhaps it’ll be easier with all thoughts of ‘what-ifs’ dashed by McCree’s lapse of memory. It’ll be awkward if McCree does eventually remember Hanzo. But they’ll both be able to move on. And if they can’t, well… Hanzo is no stranger to running.

Hanzo finds the door to his room and stares at the control pad for a long moment, his brain a little slow to catch up. What was his temporary code again? Oh, that’s right.

“So, I finally got yer name.”

Hanzo whips around to see the cowboy standing there in the middle of the hall- how had he approached so quietly with those spurs on?- and Hanzo stills. McCree has a soft smile on his face, the corner of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly. Hanzo forgets how to breathe as the cowboy walks up to him. He doesn’t stop until he’s right in front of Hanzo, so close all Hanzo would have to do is reach up on his toes to press a kiss to those soft lips he remembers so well.

“Hanzo,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over Hanzo’s lips.

Hanzo breath comes back to him in a stuttering exhale. How many times had he longed to hear this cowboy say that very name? How often had he wished above anything else he could give it to the cowboy to hear it back just as he had?

“Say it again,” Hanzo whispers, nearly pleads.

“Hanzo,” Jesse complies with a soft smile.

“I thought you had forgotten me,” Hanzo admits, unable to stop himself. He wants desperately to reach out and touch the cowboy, to ensure that this is real- that _he_ is real.

“Darlin’,” he exhales, sounding almost disappointed. McCree’s hand comes up then- finally closing the distance between the two of them- and caresses his face. He remembers the gentle touch of the cowboy’s calloused fingers, and he hadn’t realized how much he craved to feel it again.

With his other hand, McCree reaches into the pocket of his shirt, hidden beneath the folds of his serape. Hanzo’s eyes widen as he pulls out a small, familiar, wooden carving of a dragon. Hanzo immediately recognizes it as the one McCree had been carving in- attempted- secret while he had been in Hanamura. He had clearly finished it and Hanzo can tell that, at one point, it had been painted a bright blue. But the years have faded the paint, leaving only stains of the color that had bled into the wood. It looks worn, like it’s been handled constantly over the last ten years, and Hanzo can feel some sort of reaction building in his chest that he fights valiantly to hold back.

“Originally was thinkin’ I’d give this to ya when I finished it. But I got selfish, decidin’ that I wanted to keep it to remember ya by. And I did remember ya by it. My beautiful dragon. I thought ‘bout you almost every day since I left. I could never forget you, darlin'.”

“But, on the tarmac-”

“I was in shock. I thought I ain’t ever see ya again. But I also wanted this. I wanted to talk to ya alone, in private, so that when I finally got to kiss ya again, there wouldn’t be an audience,” Jesse explains, his voice still soft, quiet. Hanzo leans into the cowboy’s- _his_ cowboy’s- touch. “So what d'you say? Will ya let me kiss you, _Hanzo_?”

“You have already kept me waiting long enough, my cowboy.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know the post-dragons part is really fast, but I really didn't feel like diving into that particular brand of angst, and this fic was already long enough, so I decided to skip over everything related to Hanzo killing Genji that wasn't entirely relevant to the fic. Also, I really wanted the focus of this fic to be on the blackwatch era part of it. But anyway, I hope you liked it! Thanks for reading!


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